Remembrance and Renewal
by Avatar Arkmage and Nigel T
Summary: When the negligence of the Dursleys nearly leads to Harry's death, his disembodied form wanders, and learns truths about Severus Snape, his true biological father. Can they unite against a common foe, or do their wounds run too deep? No pairings. Revised.
1. Asphyxiated

**Remembrance and Renewal** by **Avatar Arkmage** and **Nigel Tatsuya**  
Rated: T   
Fandom: Harry Potter   
Disclaimer: JKR owns the characters. The said characters merely assumed the form of a relentless muse which we are powerless to oppose. We're men enslaved until this is completed   
Feedback: Please please please please...? Good or bad, feedback is welcome. Flames will be either passed around and laughed at or else shred and used as catbox media...perhaps both!   
Archive: Ask and you shall receive.

* * *

Chapter One: Asphyxia 

"Yes, Aunt Petunia."

"And you had better work at it properly," Aunt Petunia warned, her already long neck appearing markedly longer, "if there are any weeds left over, your Uncle will see to it that you to do the entire garden over again before supper. I'm preparing steak and kidney pudding tonight, and if you want more than just pudding and lettuce, you'll work doubly hard to finish on time!"

With that, the scrawny, blonde woman did a curt 'about face,' and walked briskly back into the kitchen, lest the crust be overdone.

A droplet of perspiration ventured from Harry's raven hair into his collar, as though it were seeking refuge from the heat of what was no doubt one of the hottest days of the year. Although Harry was clothed in oversized long sleeves, shoes, and baggy jeans, the few exposed areas of skin seemed to be doing their best to emulate the appearance of a boiled lobster's exoskeleton as it singed in the merciless sun's rays.

Harry longed for more dishes to wash, or even more steps to sweep, not because he harboured an innate love of domestic work, but because he desperately wanted chores he could do whilst in the shade. The Dursleys, having been soundly warned by Mad-Eye Moody, Lupin and Tonks not to mistreat Harry over the Summer, refrained from starving him (much), or incarcerating him in the cupboard, or in Dudley's second bedroom.

They saw little wrong however, with making him do his fair share of chores around the house, which meant 95 of anything which needed attending to. They also saw nothing wrong with sending him into the garden during the hottest time of the day, as it was the sun, and not they themselves, that caused the sunburns and the heat exhaustion.

The Dursleys thought it was a kindness that Harry would not suffer from dehydration, having adequately supplied the garden with new hoses and a sprinkler system. If the fool boy still ended up suffering from hyperthermia, it was his own fault for not drinking enough water.

Harry truly believed the Dursleys fertilized their garden with media especially made to encourage the vigorous growth of all species of weeds. He was expected to finish weeding the whole garden by mid-afternoon, although Harry suspected that the daunting task would more than likely take him until mid-afternoon tomorrow; and that was if he took no breaks to sleep, relieve himself, or eat.

"Work faster, cousin!" shouted Dudley, as he led his friends Piers and Rufhauser into the house. "You're behind your time!"

Harry mentally turned off his cousin's badgering with relative ease. Compared to the emotional blows he had weathered over the last year, Dudley's pestering had the impact of an errant dandelion seed on his cheek. What was teasing compared to witnessing the death of Sirius Black, the nearest person to family Harry had? What was Dudley's harassment compared to the knowledge that Harry's own father, James Potter, had been a ruthless bully, and his friends were either bystanders or active participants?

Memories of Sirius Black's death held Harry's attention like the symptoms of a plague for which a cure was yet to be found. It whipped nausea into his empty belly, when he saw the accursed veil in his heavily weighted mental shelves. It made his head hurt, when he agonized over all the things he could have done differently. His heart ached worst of all, for he knew that it had been in his power to prevent his godfather's death.

Ponderings over what Harry had seen in Professor Snape's Penseive followed not far behind in frequency. When he gazed into the neither solid nor liquid surface of Snape's Memories, all he believed of his father and the other Marauders passed from his mind. Although Harry knew he would not have been able to prevent the horrible, humiliating act his father and his friends had committed against his most despised professor, he knew he could have avoided witnessing it altogether.

Blaming another person was an easy course to take. Was it not Snape's fault for not teaching him occlumency properly? Sure, Harry could have invested more effort into it, but did Snape have to be such a cruel teacher? A greasy git? And if Professor Snape was such a good Occlumens, why did he need to use a Pensieve at all? Could he not have left those memories locked in his head? Away from where they could potentially prove to be an irresistible temptation to Harry?

Harry once again tried to clear his mind, something he should have mastered months before while he still had to endure the Occlumency lessons with Professor Snape. Normally, clearing one's mind was something to be done when he was going to sleep. Harry now found it necessary to engage in the ritual several times during the day, to prevent himself from feeling sicker than he already did in the summer's heat.

Harry could hardly distinguish Dudley's taunts from the twittering of the birds in the vicinity, until he felt a broken plastic toy strike him in the back of the head. "Hey, cousin! Have you got a girlfriend? Who would be stupid enough to want a scrawny bloke like you?"

Harry looked up to see Dudley waving an envelope out of his barred window. Were he not so physically uncomfortable, Harry would have been straining not to laugh, for the letter in Dudley's grasp was from Professor Minerva McGonagall, his Head of House back at Hogwart's School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. The letter contained nothing more than academic advice toward his courses for the upcoming year, and his O.W.L. results.

"Give it to me it's mine!" Harry shouted at his behemoth of a cousin, as he sprinted into the house.

By the time Harry had reached the doorway to Dudley's second bedroom, Rufhauser was already in position. The lanky boy stuck his foot out in time to trip Harry, sending the bespectacled youth sprawling onto the bare floor.

"Clumsy Git!" Dudley laughed, conveniently failing to notice what Rufhauser had just done. "The only type of girl who would even notice you would have to be even more accident prone than you are." With that, Dudley yanked Harry up by his now longer hair and thrust an envelope at him. The abrupt movement nearly smashed Harry's glasses against the bridge of his nose.

Although the writing was too close to his face to actually decipher, Harry could tell by the cerulean marbled envelope that it had been sent by Hermione, who often used muggle stationery whilst she stayed with her family during the summers.

"Who the ruddy hell is Hermeeohnay?" asked Piers dully. "Some exchange student?"

When Harry refused to answer promptly, Dudley tugged harder on the lock of hair he was still holding, "Is she your personal tart? How many times have you shagged her?"

"More times than you'll ever shag in your lifetime!" Harry lied, but he couldn't resist insulting his cousin. "But then you..."

Dudley brought his other fist hard into Harry's midsection before he could finish. The lighter youth made to double over, but Piers brought his knee firmly into Harry's nose. Blood spattered the nearby walls like errant red globular star clusters, in a galaxy of off white wallpaper.

Although Harry had developed considerable reflexes and fighting skills from heading the D.A. club during the previous school year, the fight at hand was unfairly matched. Although Harry may have been able to avoid one attack, there were two or three others following in quick succession.

Further to his disadvantage, Harry knew he did not have his magics at his disposal. Number Four Privet Drive was monitored too closely for him to even employ magic to cleanse his hair.

Narrowly ducking a punch from Piers, and dodging Rufhauser's grasp, Harry sprinted out of the room. He had grown several centimetres since the beginning of the Summer holidays, and as with many adolescents, was awkward and often misjudged the length of his newly elongated limbs. He rapidly descended the stairs, taking them two or three at a time. A few steps from the bottom, Harry missed altogether and fell the rest of the way, effectively spraining his ankle.

To a chorus of chortles and guffaws from Dudley and his friends at the top of the stairs, Harry desperately tried to stand, but only succeeded in staggering a negligible distance. He crumpled to the floor, and was treated to even more laughter.

"I'm surprised your freak school hasn't expelled you yet!" Dudley shouted, making to stomp on the ankle that Harry was obviously favouring. "You're so clumsy, you'd probably turn your professor into a cockroach when you sneezed."

As if on cue, the blood issuing from Harry's nose really did cause him to sneeze. Piers, Dudley and Rufhauser backed away in terror, but they were only sprayed lightly with blood from Harry's broken nose.

"Why you...!" Dudley kicked Harry's rapidly swelling ankle with such force that both Harry's legs buckled. Piers was over him on the instant and stomped on Harry's ankle again.

Screaming, Harry somehow managed to roll onto his hands and knees. He tried to stand, but his ankle would no longer support his weight. He then attempted to crawl away, but Rufhauser, Dudley, and Piers launched themselves onto the smaller boy like a pack of wolves set on tearing apart their prey. First Harry's glasses were broken, then, judging from the pain, and the gristly crack heard close to Harry's left ear, his clavicle. Soon, Harry was sure his left shoulder and right hip had been dislocated. Harry was uncertain how long the beating continued, but his entire body hurt.

Even Harry's hair ached from all the times when Dudley or his friends pulled it. Still, Piers, Rufhauser and Dudley persisted, each subduing blow fiercer than the last.

Uncle Vernon Dursley returned from work some time later. He quickly assessed the condition of the house and decided that it was quite tame...if compared to a warzone or disaster area in a time of great political unrest.

Mr. Dursley had been known to take issue with hedges Harry cut a mere millimetre too short. "BOY! What did you do to provoke Dudley and his friends this time?"

Harry opened his mouth to say explain that he did exactly what he normally did to provoke them. He had done absolutely nothing. Unfortunately, Harry had bit his tongue when Dudley had punched him in the jaw, and it was now too swollen to allow him produce speech any more comprehensible than that of a baby's babble.

Aunt Petunia, hearing the commotion, came out of the kitchen drying her hands on a dishtowel. "Look at all the dirt you've tracked on the carpet!" she shrieked. "You think because you've got those freaks from your magic school watching us, that you can get away with anything!"

"Clean this mess at once, boy!" Vernon stomped over to a closet and threw a bucket, some rags and a mop at the youth, who was still sprawled on the floor.

After years of conditioning, Harry complied with his uncle's demands... or at least tried to. He reached for a rag and tried to sit up, but the sharp pain in his shoulder and chest commanded him back to the floor with more urgency than his Uncle ever could. Harry then attempted to roll himself over, but a sharp pain from his hip forced him back down.

"You're only stalling!" shouted Uncle Vernon, making as though to kick Harry, but stopped with his foot mere centimetres away. At least the threats from the wizards appeared to have had the desired effect. The fact that he was not dead yet was further testament to that.

Harry longed to hurl a string of epithets at his uncle and cousin, but could not achieve more than a soft mewling.

Impatient, Uncle Vernon grabbed the collar of Harry's gardening wear and yanked him to his feet, causing pain to explode in various places throughout Harry's body. "Look at how dirty you are!" uncle Vernon turned to the other youths in the room while motioning to Harry, "under no circumstances are you ever to mimic this sort of behaviour. Go wash up!"

When Harry failed to move from the spot, Vernon manually dragged Harry into the washroom and pulled off his soiled clothes as though they were the rinds of a rotting fruit. Harry groaned in protest, and feebly tried to cover his nakedness, even though Uncle Vernon carefully kept is eyes averted. Harry's near emaciated form was hardly worth his attention.

Heedless of the water temperature, Vernon turned the faucets to maximum and threw Harry into the tub. "You had better come out clean, and don't dawdle either, you still have to clean up the mess you've left out there!" And with that, Uncle Vernon slammed the door.

It was all Harry could do to keep his head above the water as the tub continued to fill. The water temperature was slightly hotter than Harry would have liked, but it felt almost soothing against his bruised and battered body. Once more, Harry tried feebly to raise himself to turn off the taps when the water's level reached his chin. Unexpectedly, his arm slipped, causing him to pitch beneath the water. He desperately attempted to shift his position, but his dislocated shoulder was useless, and the other arm was numb because it had been bearing his weight.

Harry grew fatigued, and let out the breath he did not know he had been holding. When his need to inhale overwhelmed him, he drew an indeterminate quantity of bath water into his lungs. Nearly asphyxiated, Harry wondered if blissful unconsciousness was not far away.

And it wasn't.

* * *

The unrelenting heat of midday bore down on the castle's grounds. Within the dungeons of the much venerated Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, the dour potions master, Severus Snape, peered into the cauldron. Satisfied with both the colour and consistency of the Wolfsbane potion, he began processing the final ingredients. 

A faint 'pop' issued from the fireplace behind him. At first, Severus assumed that Remus Lupin, the returning Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, had arrived for his monthly dose of Wolfsbane; but the slow and slightly uneven footsteps, and the gentle swishing of heavy robes announced that it was Headmaster Albus Dumbledore.

One very curious thing about the aged headmaster, was his uncanny ability to raise the ambient temperature of the normally cool areas within Hogwarts. If he were to wander into the room containing Professor Snape's potion stores, Snape would be more surprised **not** to find the better portion of his heat sensitive ingredients and infusions compromised. Severus could feel the warmth of the older man's azure gaze on his back now, as through it were forged from the purest energy.

For a few moments more, Albus Dumbledore watched the relatively young potion master work. Professor Snape's grasp of his discipline far superceded that of any of his predecessors, and Albus Dumbledore had seen many potion masters come and go during his many years at Hogwarts. Although it was early afternoon, the windowless laboratory was dark, save for the faint illumination from the torches, the flames beneath the caldrons, and the fireplace in the far corner of the room. Yet, professor Snape seemed unperturbed by the darkness, and could blindly reach behind himself for ingredients on the nearby shelves with remarkable accuracy. The scales, more often than not, lay unused on the table, serving more as a decoration than anything else. Snape's feel for the ingredients assured measures accurate to the milligram.

Apparently satisfied, Professor Snape moved the caldron to the cooling area and nodded in the direction of Albus Dumbledore. "Headmaster?"

"Severus, you have been working from well before daybreak, it is time for you to rest and..." as if on cue, Dobby the house elf appeared just to the left of Albus, bearing a tray of sandwiches, two bowls of soup, pastries and chilled pumpkin juice, "...have some refreshment."

"I am not some infant who needs to be reminded of naptime," the dour potions professor grumbled, but led the Headmaster to the dining area of his chambers, and invited him to sit nonetheless. Severus then sat down hard in the chair opposite, and gratefully helped himself to a bowl of soup and half a sandwich.

Albus Dumbledore placed the other half of the sandwich, and a scone on Severus's plate.

"I am capable of feeding myself," Severus protested.

"I must attend to some business at the Ministry, "Albus began, pouring himself and Severus some pumpkin juice, and ignoring the barb as though Severus had not spoken at all. "It seems Minister Fudge is still in denial of the very real threat of Voldemort's second rise."

Severus flinched at hearing He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named's name being spoken so freely, and burned his tongue on the hot soup he shovelled too quickly into his mouth. "But he already acknowledged the Dark Lord's return?"

"Yes, child but alas, he does not want to cause panic within the magical community and is downplaying the magnitude of the threat." Albus lamented, taking an absent bite of his sandwich. "As it is, reports of the latest Death Eater raids have been relegated to the fourth page of the Daily Prophet, right next to the advertisements for the Weasley's new joke shop."

"Dunderheads!"

At that less than affectionate assessment of the ministry's officials, Albus's eyes twinkled like B-Class stars. The urgency returned to them shortly thereafter. "Severus, I must ask a favour of you..."

Having angrily stuffed the entire scone into his mouth, Severus could not readily protest. Perhaps the headmaster had been waiting for such a moment...?

"I must ask that you go to Surrey personally, and check on Harry Potter..."

For once, Severus was glad that he had solid food in his mouth. Had it been pumpkin juice, it would have been adorning the headmaster's face.

"I would do the task myself, but I am expected at the ministry this afternoon." Dumbledore said, suppressing the urge to laugh at Snape's choking on the confection in shock. "I trust you to observe him stealthily, unseen by both Harry and the muggles. Your skills at stealth and covert operations being unmatched, Severus."

"Headmaster," Professor Snape said, recovering. "the aurors are already observing him, are their reports not sufficient? And with all due respect, I am not the person..."

"...who is not best for this job..."Albus finished for him.

"But Albus, the boy dislikes me, and after he went into my Pensieve..." Snape said, his normally colourless cheeks flushing with barely repressed anger.

"Severus, I am not asking you make amends or even to speak with him. All I ask, is that you see that he is being cared for and that he is well." Dumbledore said, reaching across the table and putting a hand on the younger man's shoulder.

"How could he be otherwise? He is Harry Potter." Snape said, standing abruptly and stomping over to his wardrobe without finishing the small quantity of food before him. "That spoiled, arrogant..."

"Now, Severus," the headmaster said to forestall him, having followed Snape to his room. "Surely your opinion has changed somewhat? You did after all, have a glimpse of his life whist teaching him Occlumency."

"Well what of it...?" the potions master began, but the rest of his rant died somewhere in his throat. Some images which flashed from the boy's mind reminded him so much of his own youth, that he had lashed out in anger more from his own recollections than from the boy's concentration, or lack thereof.

When he had glimpsed the memory of Harry running from an attacking dog, Severus's dreams that night were of the time he had been lured to the mercy of a werewolf, who was not subdued by the then undeveloped wolfsbane potion. That nightmare, though infrequent, caused him to wake in a cold sweat with his heart hammering.

When he witnessed Harry being chased by his own cousin Dudley and his friends, Severus was reminded almost immediately of his own similar treatment at the hands of the Marauders. If James Potter and his friends ever caught Severus alone in the halls, Severus would have to run or face having his homework and class notes nicked in the best case scenario, or hexed and/or beaten in the worst. They had humiliated him before the entire school that horrid day they had sat for their OWLs, when he had not run away quickly enough.

The knowledge that Harry Potter, the son of James Potter, had seen that memory, filled Snape simultaneously with rage and mortification. Why should he, of all others in The Order, be charged with this task now?

The headmaster appeared to be reading the images playing in the potions master's mind and patted his back soothingly. "Please, Severus I only ask that you check on him. For my peace of mind, if nothing else?"

Professor Snape nodded in acquiescence, there was little he could refuse Professor Dumbledore. He began removing his potion-splattered clothes and throwing them into a tub of neutralizing potion. After having many outfits ruined over the years by potions splashing out of the cauldrons or potion's class mishaps, the instructor had taken to keeping a tub of neutralizer in place of a receptacle for his soiled clothes. The house elves would still take his clothes and launder them just the same.

Although the Headmaster had seen Professor Snape in various states of undress before, he still could barely suppress his feelings of outrage and shock at seeing the scars that riddled Severus's alabaster white flesh. As always, feelings of guilt ended up at the forefront as Albus glumly knew that many of those scars had been inflicted during Snape's service as a spy for the order.

The potions master reached for an outfit which looked exactly like the one he had discarded, when the headmaster snatched it from him. "We have to be more cautious, my boy. Both the Ministry and, without a doubt, Voldemort's forces, are watching the area miles around Magnolia Crescent. Any apparitions in the vicinity of Surrey will raise suspicions, as will anyone in Wizard's robes."

"But. Albus, I haven't any muggle clothing..."

"No, but that can be remedied." Albus waved his hand over the younger man's outfit and the white dress shirt transfigured into a ripped muggle tee-shirt; the frock coat into a black leather jacket with a decidedly evil looking snake embroidered on the back; and the black trousers become a pair of faded, ripped dungarees embellished with gold chains.

"WHAT THE--!" Severus yelled, his eyebrows rising so high that Albus thought it looked as though the brows had gained sentience and wanted to see the top of Severus's head. "This looks like an outfit a muggle who lost a particularly violent fight, and narrowly escaped being captured in a metalsmith's shop would be wearing!" Angry, but knowing better than to argue with the older man, Severus pulled the clothes on, struggling a bit with the undersized jeans. Sarcastically, he said: "Albus, could you have made these just a bit tighter?"

"As you wish." Albus promptly spelled his colleague's jeans two sizes smaller.

"YAAAAAARGH! Now I shall find it difficult to sit, or move about properly." Severus shouted angrily, becoming even more enraged when he saw the amusement in the headmaster's eyes.

Albus spelled the jeans one size larger, stating that the muggles he had seen in London several years ago wore dungarees equally as snug.

"Odd that muggles are as prolific as they are, then." Severus snarled, tugging at the unyielding fabric in his groin area in a futile attempt to relieve the pressure. "If one were to wear these every day, their reproductive processes would be severely inhibited; assuming the man is capable of the sexual act whilst their reproductive organs have gone numb."

Severus was about to add that he had always wanted his voice to go an octave or two higher so he could join a choir in the falsetto section, but decided against it, as the Headmaster led them both out of the castle. Once they were outside the gates, they apparated several kilometres away from Magnolia crescent.

Albus then handed Severus a broom and transfigured it into a muggle "eccelectric two wheel vehicle. "This way you will blend in well with the muggles."

"I can understand the need for camouflage, Albus." Severus said as he mounted the transfigured broom and tapped the ignition. "But did you have to use a means that would attract so much attention? This muggle transport device is louder than a clutch of Cornish Pixies rutting in a covered tin cauldron!"

Albus merely shrugged his shoulders to indicate that he had not heard a word over the thundering hum of the engine. Severus took that opportunity to say some not so nice things to Albus before he sped away toward Privet Drive.

* * *

Professor Severus Snape continued on the transfigured broom en route to Magnolia Crescent. As the near unbearable rumbling of the engine continued, he wondered how all the muggles who traveled in this manner managed to avoid permanent hearing impairment. After only several minutes on the "eckelectric two-wheeled transport," the potions master began to feel numbness in his ears. The numbness soon transformed into a dull ache, and Severus decided that it would be imperative to take a regenerative potion when we returned to his labs. 

Nearly at his destination, Severus happened upon a group of similarly dressed muggles who were all riding noisy vehicles which resembled his transfigured broom. Grateful for the opportunity to blend in, Severus fell into formation near the back of their ranks.

The other members regarded him with everything from interest to disdain, and proceeded to perform pop-wheelies and hairpin turns. Some rode dangerously close to him, while others leaned from side to side as though to entice him to do the same. Because his own "chopper" was indeed a broom, and thinking that showing off was something that muggles on noisy vehicles did as a matter of custom, Severus attempted to duplicate all their stunts. He did so with a relative ease akin to one who had been carrying out such stunts for many a year.

Most of the bikers seemed impressed, but when Severus began to ride his" bike" backwards, did handstands on the seat, performed a step-dance routine on the chassis, and finally did a pop-wheelie with both legs on the handlebars, some of the bikers appeared offended. Unbeknownst to Severus Snape, a few even made obscene gestures at him.

Try as he might, Severus could not understand why the eckelectric two-wheeled transport riders were trying to remind him which way was up with their index and middle fingers. Perhaps without the use of magic, they needed to be reminded which way was up frequently, and they were doing this as a courtesy.

He was about to return the gesture, when the one who appeared to be the leader of this group rode abreast of him and shouted: "Bugger off, you Douchebag!"

Snape bid them farewell when he turned onto Magnolia Crescent and rode toward to Privet Drive.

'I wonder what a dooshbag is?' Snape thought to himself as he parked the vehicle some distance away, and ambled to the entrance of Number Four.

End Part One


	2. Perigee

**Remembrance and Renewal** by **Nigel Tatsuya** and **Avatar Arkmage**  
**Chapter Two: Perigee**

After quickly assessing his surroundings, Professor Severus Snape decided that sneaking through a window of an unoccupied room would be the most unobtrusive course of action. He crept to the side of the Dursley house, and carefully peered into the window.

A disturbance within the house prompted him to take refuge in the flowerbeds under the living room window. After hearing only the muffled sounds of Potter's muggle relatives shouting, and no arrogant Potter shouting back, Snape concluded that the Dursleys were having a family argument amongst themselves, and decided to give it time to resolve before seeking out Potter. In all likelihood, Potter was probably staying out of their way, and hopefully working on his summer assignments.

Crouching low, so as not to be seen from either the street or from within the house, Snape continued listen. Or at least to make a whole hearted attempt to do so. He cursed the loudness of the transfigured broom for his lack of hearing acuity now, as he could not make out what the voices were saying. Straining even harder, he thought he heard the sound of a pressure change in the house's plumbing system and realized it had to have been caused by some one opening a faucet. Whomever had turned it on, had turned it on all the way.

Without warning, one of his long repressed memories forced its way to the forefront of his mind. It was as though some one had cast a legilimens upon him, and he was ill-prepared to deflect it.

* * *

"No, father! Please..." a six year old Severus whimpered as he backed away from the man approaching. 

"You've been making potions again haven't you?"

"No father, I was studying my duelling books." the young boy said shielding his head from the blow he knew would be coming.

"Do not lie to me!" the elder Snape yelled as his palm smacked the boy's shoulder. When the boy lowered his arms to soothe his burning shoulder, he was slapped hard across the cheek. "I can smell the ingredients all over you!"

"It was only burn healing paste...and I was trying to make a potion that r-re-generates broken tissues... " the young Severus sobbed, tears beginning to spill over his stinging face.

"And why exactly were you making burn healing paste and developing a new potion?" Lucien Snape grabbed a handful of his son's hair and snapped his head back.

"Because you hurt mummy!" screamed Severus. "I wanted to make her all better!"

Severus continued to scream as his father dragged him to the washroom by the hair. He hastily filled the tub, then held his son's face millimetres above the scalding water. Severus wailed even more when he felt the steam on his cheek, which wasn't sallow yet, but the colour of bisque porcelain. "I did not raise you to be a weakling, Severus!" The white-blonde haired man shouted. "Spending all your time studying those worthless potions when you should be learning to defend yourself. I want you to kick a Gryffindor boy's arse every day when you get to Hogwarts! Two would be even better."

"Okay, Father." Severus said without a shadow of conviction.

"But since you've been making potions today, instead of studying what you've been instructed to," the elder Snape removed his belt and motioned toward the tub. "Let us see how well your burn healing paste and skin re-grower works. Get in the tub boy!" Severus looked at the belt in his father's clenched fist, and then at the scalding tub, determining which of the two would be more bearable. If he climbed into the tub, he'd be burned. If he opted to tangle with the belt, he'd be flayed raw and forced into the tub anyway, but the water would have had a chance to cool slightly.

Severus decided to climb into the tub straightaway, but would stall by struggling more than he needed to with the fastenings on his robes. He jumped in when his father waved the belt threateningly close to his face, and was relieved that the water, while uncomfortably hot, was not hot enough to cause more than the most superficial burns.

"I will not have a milksop for a son!" Lucien Snape shouted as he grabbed Severus's long hair and plunged the boy's head under the water. "And furthermore, you will learn to keep to your own affairs when it comes to matters between your mother and me. Your mother will heal on her own, without interference from a potion brewing whelp like you! Is that clear?"

Severus only cried when his father allowed him to come up for air,

"Is that clear?"

"Don't hurt mummy then, and I won't-"

"How dare you!" Lucien hissed, rasing his hand once more to the terrified child.

* * *

Professor Severus Snape pushed the horrible memory far into the most secluded section of his mental shelves, wondering why it had resurfaced so suddenly, and without warning. There was apparently no one in the immediate area who could have cast a legilimens on him, and he did not sense the spell upon him besides. Why had that memory suddenly resurfaced? 

Berating himself for being distracted so, he stealthily crawled through one of the living room windows of the Dursley house. The room was unoccupied, for the family had congregated in the kitchen for their evening meal. Severus crept closer to the kitchen and listened intently, but heard no indication that Potter was even amongst them. Was it possible that Harry was abnormally quiet when he was home for the Summers? Odd, since he was always so annoyingly boisterous with his friends at Hogwarts. Even whilst conversing with a know- it- all like Granger during meals in the Great Hall, Potter was observed to at least be speaking some of the time.

Snape's mind ventured back to his horrific memory momentarily, and something compelled him to immediately run to the door of the upstairs washroom. Moving closer, he heard the bath water running. Not wanting to frighten the bathroom's occupant, even if it was Potter, he tapped lightly on the door. After receiving no response, he knocked again. Although he could have used magical means to see inside, he did not want to do any unnecessary magic in a muggle house, for this location was surely being monitored by both light and dark sides. When water began to puddle in the hallway, Snape cracked the door and peered in.

"Potter!" Snape yelled in a voice barely above a whisper at the spectacle that greeted him. Harry was laying at the bottom of the tub, his eyes staring sightlessly, yet longingly at the water's surface.

Heedless of the consequences, Professor Snape threw a few towels from a nearby rack on the floor, then knelt at the edge of the tub and lifted Harry out of the water, realizing only too late how broken the youth's body was. Snape took great care to stabilize Harry's head and neck as he began rescue breathing.

When Harry did not readily begin breathing on his own, Snape spelled whatever remained of the bathwater from Harry's lungs. "Come on, Potter. You did not survive this long, only to drown whilst bathing in an overfilled bathtub!" Snape whispered silkily while resisting to the urge to shake the boy awake, feeling the ghost of a violent father lurking like a spectre in the darkest corners of his consciousness. "Potter! Potter! Breathe you, dunderhead!"

Evidently, that was the gentle push that Harry needed, and he began to breathe shallowly and cough intermittently. Feeling immense relief, Snape placed Harry in a modified body bind, which stabilized his neck and shoulders. He carefully examined the boy further, noting any bruises and binding the deeper wounds with bandaging materials he found in the cabinet over the sink. Professor Snape then lifted Harry into his arms. He transfigured his leather jacket back into his frock coat and wrapped the unconscious youth in it before descending the staircase, no longer observing the guidelines of stealth.

The Dursleys and the two boys were just exiting the dining room and froze at the sight of the long haired biker moving through the foyer with Harry in his arms. If Uncle Vernon's face could simultaneously turn three shades of purple previously, it appeared to have gained one or two more shades now.

"Who the bloody hell are you?" Vernon said, standing in Snape's path, "and what the Hell are you doing in my house?"

"Be assured that I would take greater pleasure in being slowly digested in the alimentary canal of a giant crustacean, than to be here in your place of residence." Severus stated in an even voice. "And I would no sooner remain here a moment more, than I would tread barefoot on a floor made of glass shards."

"W-where are you taking Harry," Aunt Petunia stammered.

"You were unconcerned about his well being a heartbeat's time ago, do not feign concern now." The professor replied, wrapping the injured boy more securely in his frock coat.

Harry awakened to great pain from the professor's ministrations, and started moaning. "Please," Harry whispered, his words barely comprehensible. "No more. Please...no more...I'll finish my chores earlier next time, I promise...just please stop. I can't take much more."

Harry stared blankly at the professor's face, obviously not seeing him. Something was very different about the boy now. Aside from his longer and straighter hair, and increased height, there were no significant changes to note. There was no change in the hue of his eyes, although there was something more intense about them, even in Potter's fragile state. At first, Severus thought it might have just been due to the fact that Harry was not wearing his glasses, but dismissed the idea soon after, realizing that even with his glasses back in place, the boy's gaze had an intensity not present before. Potter's lips were less full now, as they quivered in despair.

Severus gently checked the binding around Harry's neck once again, and Harry flinched. "Please don't hit me anymore!"

"You may be an arrogant twit, Potter, but I have no intention of striking you." Severus stated simply, lowering his hand momentarily then slowly beginning the procedure again.

Dursley inhaled deeply as if to speak, but Severus cast a silencing spell on him and calmly walked out the door.

"Be assured that the appropriate people will be informed of this." Snape hissed at the silent man, his shuddering family, and the guests as he walked back to his parked eckelectric two wheeled vehicle.

Harry's gaze moved slowly to the vehicle in wonder. "No Potter, if I were to transport you back to Hogwarts with this, at this time of night, we'd risk waking more than the dead."

Snape dragged the chopper and Harry a safe distance from Number Four Privet Drive then ended the incantation on it, turning it back into a school broom, which he shrunk and put into his pocket. He then held out his wand and summoned the Knight Bus. After laying Harry on a comfortable bed on the second level, and giving him a once over to make sure his condition was stable, he lay on the bed adjacent to it and pretended to be asleep to avoid any unwanted attention from the other passengers aboard.

Just as he disembarked with Harry at Hogwarts gates, his dark mark burned sharply, almost causing him to drop the already wounded youth on the wet Earth...

* * *

The grounds of Hogwarts glowed in the light of the full moon of July 30th as though the very stones which forged its walls, and the blades of grass which adorned its grounds, had developed the capability of bioluminescence. The forms of the staff members, who had either remained, or had returned earlier than usual, moved about darkened grounds like ghostly shadows, as they enjoyed the relative warmth of the Summer's night. 

A werewolf, bearing a basket of glowing fungi in its snout, loped behind the figures of a pleasingly plump woman with fly-away hair, and a man who seemed too large to be fully human.

"Do you think Professor Snape will appreciate some perigeeraniums too?" Professor Sprout asked, lightly touching the faintly glowing petals of the large purple flower.

"If he don,' I reckon I can try bakin' 'em in some rock cakes." Hagrid said, smiling at his two companions.

"BUFF!" Lupin bayed.

"I don't think they would make good rock cakes," Professor Sprout said, acknowledging the werewolf's concern. "The perigeeraniums contain a powerful hallucinogenic compound. Because they only bloom during the full moon, and only when the moon is at perigee, it used to be believed that the bright, full moon caused insanity. In reality it was the pollen from these flowers floating in the air that caused the lunacy'"

"Won' we go crazy too?" Hagrid motioned to another patch of the purple flowers as he lightly stroked the werewolf's fur.

"Only if you try to sniff these flowers, or if you run through a field of them. I don't think we'll be outside long enough to go crazy just from the pollen in the air" Sprout said as she began to fill her basket with the plants.

Due to improvements Professor Snape had made to the wolfsbane potion over the years, Remus Lupin was no longer relegated to his chambers adjacent to the Defense Against The Dark Arts classroom during the nights of the full moon. He no longer felt ill or uncomfortable in his lupine form and retained an even greater degree of his human sentience, while at the same time enjoying the more exquisite lupine senses of smell and sight.

Rubeus Hagrid enjoyed the companionship during these nights, and often accompanied Professor Sprout into the Forbidden Forest, both to help her gather plants and fungi, as well as to run interference should Grawp, or any of he other creatures in the forest show aggression. The addition of Remus Lupin was even better, as few creatures would willingly grapple with a werewolf.

As professor Sprout knelt next to a large yew tree to examine a promising patch of fungus, Lupin nudged her with his muzzle and yelped.

"What's troublin' ya, Remus?" Hagrid asked, scratching the werewolf's ears comfortingly.

Lupin had been startled by the faint of scent of blood...human blood. Had one of the witches who had remained at Hogwarts been menstruating, or having the lochia discharge after having given birth, or even if one of the boys cut himself whilst learning to shave, the scent would not have worried him at all. The smell of venous blood in the air was heavy, and Lupin immediately loped over to investigate, motioning for Sprout and Hagrid to follow.

* * *

The Dark Mark burned relentlessly. 

Although his face betrayed nothing, Severus Snape felt as though his left forearm were being held over a torch after having had a flammable substance smeared on it. The memory of the day his father had taught' him the fear of fire threatened, but his skills as an Occlumens forced it away like a demon condemned to spend eternity on the side of the moon that never faced the Earth.

"A'right Prof'sor, Snape?" Hagrid asked when he came upon Severus, who held a youth wrapped in his black frock coat.

Without prelude, Severus deposited Harry into Hagrid's arms and dropped to his haunches, as though to adjust one of the chains near his ankle. Unnoticed by Sprout or Hagrid, Severus whispered near the werewolf's head: "Lupin, tell Dumbledore that I've been summoned."

Lupin whined in response and licked Severus's seldom exposed arm, as the sallow man was still dressed in short sleeves. Severus scowled and looked reprovingly at his fellow order member.

Sprout and Hagrid had needed no further instruction, and were already ambling back toward the castle with Harry. Lupin nodded one last time, and followed. Satisfied, Severus doubled back out of the gates and apparated away, cursing that he did not have enough time to change into his Death Eater attire.

* * *

"Good Heavens!" Minerva McGonagall gasped at the sight of Hagrid placing the unconscious teen on one of the triage beds. "What happened?" 

"Dunno, M'nerva." Hagrid sighed, helping Madam Pomfrey position Harry and remove the oversized frock coat. "Prof'sor Snape jus' appeared with Harry near the gates when me and Sprout and Lupin were gatherin' plants and 'e just handed 'im to me."

"He did not say anything?" Dumbledore, who had just entered the infirmary, asked.

"Nope, e looked bit pale m'self though." Hagrid lamented. "I figured he wanted me ta' get Harry to the infirmary so we didn' waste time. And when I looked back fer im e was already gone."

The Headmaster and the Deputy Headmistress exchanged nervous glances.

Madam Pomfrey concluded her initial assessment and exhaled deeply.

"How is he, Poppy?" McGonagall asked without any yearning to hear the answer.

"Mr. Potter has a concussion, a broken nose, a fractured clavicle, several cracked ribs, a dislocated shoulder, and because he nearly drowned he is suffering also from hemodilution, hyponatremia ..." Madam Pomfrey sighed as she adjusted the sheets over Harry's still form, and pressed on as though reading some grotesque inventory list.

Hagrid was already sobbing uncontrollably at this point, and both Dumbledore and McGonagall grew a shade paler with each injury Pomfrey declared.

"I really need some room to work here," the harried nurse stated, as she gathered potions and instruments and moved them to Harry's bedside.

* * *

The humans and the werewolf reconvened in a meeting room close to the infirmary. Lupin, though he could not speak, still was able inform Dumbledore of Snape's summons through a series of head movements, whines and paw tapping which Dumbledore seemed to understand. 

"Yes," Dumbledore said, rubbing his lined forehead and shielding his eyes from view in the process. "I suspected Mr. Potter's relatives had not been protecting Harry as well as they should, despite the warnings they were given. I only wish Severus could have given details of what he observed within the Dursley home. In the future..."

"Albus!" Minerva said with admonishment heavy in her voice. In normal circumstances, she would not interrupt her superior in mid sentence. These however, were far from normal circumstances. "Surely you can't even consider sending him back there...not after what..."

"...Minerva, we do not know the true cause of Harry's injuries," Dumbledore said. "Are we even certain it was the Dursleys themselves and not an accident..."

"ALBUS!" McGonagall shouted, her glare practically putting the best effort by Snape to shame. "Unless the accident involved falling down five mountain sides and landing in a lake at the bottom, I would not recommend Mr. Potter ever going back to his relatives! If they can't even keep their own flesh and blood safe from harm. ..."

"Minerva," Albus stated in a voice that sounded as calm as if he were commenting on the weather. "You are aware that the wards at Privet Drive depend largely on Harry's being in the proximity of blood relatives."

Won' it work with more distant relatives?" Hagrid said after the group had fallen silent. "Don' Harry have a fir' cousin once removed or a granduncle?"'

"Even if were able to locate such a person, the blood would be too diffuse to use for wards." Dumbledore sighed.

* * *

Severus Snape moved the caldron from the flames, and set it next to the others to cool. He had been surprised hours earlier to find that no other Death Eaters, save for the ever present Peter Pettigrew, seemed to be at the manor. When he had apparated into what looked like a large lord's, or else a colossal humbug's estate, Voldemort immediately ordered Severus into a makeshift laboratory and set him to work on potions which did everything from healing cuts to causing haemorrhagic fever. Snape deduced that the next raid would be carried out within the next two nights, as the embolism inducer potion would lose its potency after fifty hours. 

"SSSo my, dutiful sssnake," Voldemort began as he watched Snape ladle a potion into vials. "Why are you wearing such curiousss muggle clothessss?"

"I was doing research earlier in a muggle university library and needed to be inconspicuous, Master." Severus hoped that Voldemort wouldn't realize that dressing in tight clothing with clanking chains would only have drawn more attention to him in more conservative muggle environments. Not wanting him to think too much on this topic, Severus went on. "Did you know that the muggles have now created a blue pill that can reverse the effects of erectile dysfunction?"

"No, SSSeverussss." the Dark Lord answered. "Though I dare sssssay muggles reproducccce themselvesss quickly enough without the help of their potionssss and blue pillsssss."

The potions master placed more vials on the table and began to decant the contents of the next caldron. As he was stoppering the last container, Voldemort continued as though there had been no pause in the dialogue. "Sssso, did you manage to procure some of these blue pillsss from the mugglesss?"

"Regretfully no, Master." Severus replied, momentarily wondering why the Dark Lord would even care. "The worker in the muggle apothecary was quite a twit about it."

* * *

Harry found himself in a parlour lit only by torches and a fireplace. Although he himself wanted to pull back, he felt a strange sense of anticipation as a group of masked people in black robes filed into the room. An unremarkable door to the right of the group opened, and none other than his hated potions master entered the room. 

There was something very odd about this. If he was indeed a Death Eater like the others, why was he dressed so...strangely? He had never seen Professor Snape in anything but black billowing robes. Harry strained to look twice as he began to doubt that this truly was Severus Snape. Snape would no doubt balk at anything more form fitting than robes, yet here he was, wearing ripped jeans which looked to be a few sizes too small.

"Master?" Snape asked in his customary silky voice, thereby settling any question in Harry's mind that this man, and his hated potions master were indeed one in the same.

"Sseverusss..."Harry heard himself say in Voldemort's voice. "You've done your potionsss dutiess mosssssst commendably, but you delayed in responding to the ssssummonsss earlier tonight and you arrived improperly dressssed."

Although taken aback, Snape bowed submissively and said: "Yes, Master."

Harry saw himself caress Snape's chin with his spidery fingers and force the long haired man to look at him. "Your explanationsss for your actionssss are not only weak, but susspect. You will be punissssshed for your liessss."

Professor Snape looked as though he wanted to protest, but knew that doing so would only earn him more punishments. Death eaters were often were punished for the mildest infractions. Even though Snape's tardiness had not been more than five minutes at the most, Harry could sense the Dark Lord's suspicions, and great displeasure with Professor Snape. It was also clear that the Dark Lord would not allow it to go unpunished.

Even though it was the shared aspiration of most of the students at Hogwarts to see their cruel potions master being punished, Harry shivered as he knew it was coming to pass. He did not want to watch this man, or indeed any man receiving this kind of treatment from Voldemort.

"You will all have your turn with the little sssssnake," the Dark Lord said to his robed minions. "You may do anything you desssire except blind him, crusssh his hands, or impair his potionsss ssskills in any way. And you cccccccertainly may not kill him, BEGIN!"

The death eaters each stepped forward in turn and assaulted Professor Severus Snape. Some of the robed figures did little more than kick the man in the backside, while others like the robed figure Harry knew to be Bellatrix Lestrange hit Snape with a string of curses, including the cruciatus. Lucius Malfoy beat Snape with his snake-headed stick, while another called took out a knife and cut deep gashes right through the potions master's clothes.

Goyle Sr also did not use any magic whatsoever. He pounced on Professor Snape and proceeded to pummel him. If Harry could have looked away, he would have done so, as the sight of the large man hammering on the smaller one reminded him painfully of the events of earlier that day, when Dudley and his friends had done the same to him. Goyle finished by slamming a knee into Snape's testicles, causing every man in the room, and apparently even Voldemort, to wince.

To Professor Snape's credit, he was mostly silent throughout his punishment, although Harry heard few guttural sounds escape him. Harry begged every deity he could name to not have to watch any more of this cruelty, but he was only met by sounds of his own applause and accolades in that serpentine voice.

A man he assumed to be the other half of Lestrange approached Snape next,pointed his wand at the victim and uttered a curse Harry had never heard before. The chains on Snape's jeans began to glow like red coals, and caused smoke to rise from the material in contact with them. The smell of burning flesh followed soon after.

Crabbe Sr's assault was so similar to Goyle's that Harry wondered if the two large men were a product of some covert experiment in human (or rather goon) cloning. The elder Crabbe even finished he same way, causing Snape, who had still not fully recovered from the crushing pain in his groin, to vomit all over himself. This time all but one of the people in the room turned away in revulsion.

Finally the last death eater approached, introducing himself as some one named "Bacterian." He went on to tell Snape about time he spent in muggle prisons in several nations and stated his intention to use one of their many forms of torture on him, as it would serve both to cleanse, as well as teach him a lesson.

Bacterian dragged Snape to a tiled room and threw him against the wall. He then pulled out what looked like a watering hose the fire department would use and turned it on.

Highly pressurized, icy water pinned Snape to the wall. He desperately tried to move away but the jet of water followed him leaving heavy bruising in it's wake. Where the jet caught one of the chains on Snape's jeans, it would leave a chain-shaped welt concealed beneath the coarse material. Being fully unprepared for this previously unknown onslaught, the potions master screamed and slowly slid down the wall, eventually laying in a protective ball on the floor. The cries continued, although they were muffled by the thundering of the water.

Harry watched in horror. The unfamiliar sound of Snape's cries only heightened his terror and he begged whatever deity who may have been listening to either stop those people from hurting Snape, allow him to wake up, or to at least grant him a means to not have to witness these events any longer.

* * *

Harry saw the scene before him fade, as though dissolving into a white mist. Soon everything around him was white. Harry realized that he was in a kind of white abyss. He felt no surface below him and there were no walls, or indeed any objects at all for as far as he could see. Oddly though, he neither had the sensation of floating, nor standing. 

An ethereal being with shining red hair and bright green eyes was the only flash of colour in the stark whiteness. The being morphed into a woman's form as she seemed to float ever closer to Harry.

"Mother!"

End Part Two


	3. A Tumultuous Past

**Remembrance and Renewal** by **Avatar Arkmage** and ** Nigel Tatsuya**  
Chapter Three: ** A Tumultuous Past**

Although the full moon was currently at perigee, making it appear roughly 12 larger in the sky, the night was dark for Albus Dumbledore. It seemed as though the moon, which usually reflected about 7 of the sun's rays, had lost its albedo altogether, and that the universe itself had expanded to the point where neighbouring stars could no longer be seen.

Or perhaps it merely felt thus to Albus Dumbledore, as he stood watch over the still form of Harry Potter. Had the wounded boy, or the werewolf asleep on the floor been conscious, they would have marvelled at how the aged headmaster seemed to give off a glow in the near darkness of the hospital wing, as though the man were an extension of the beams of moonlight piercing the room from the Westward facing windows; beams of moonlight the old man himself could not see.

Albus strode to the window facing the East end of the grounds, watching for the first rays of sunlight. In truth, many people throughout his roughly 156 years of life had been like sunlight to him, warming, comforting and nurturing.

One of those people, was Severus Snape. Although many would compare the dour potions master to the destructive dark matter of the universe, Albus had come to love him like a son. He looked anxiously toward the fringes of the Forbidden Forest, hoping to see Severus emerging unharmed. Tired... perhaps, angry..most assuredly.

At best, Albus knew that Severus would return grouchy, though no worse for wear. Often, the potion master would traverse the grounds trembling, a direct result of having the Cruciatus Curse applied to him too often, of for too long. Many times, Albus would have to order him directly to the infirmary; Severus's body badly marked by the signs of a recent beating.

Of late, Severus would return to Hogwarts both beaten and trembling.

There was also that ominous thought that one day Severus might not return at all, as the Cruciatus curse can cause insanity, or in the worst case scenario, death.

Voldemort, who had been merciless to his followers in his first reign, was completely abysmal to them now. When Death Eater raids were anything less than successful, he tortured all of the minions directly responsible. Sometimes, even when the raids resulted in the deaths of all the muggles, and muggle sympathizers in a given town, the Death Eaters were still punished for any infraction Voldemort accused them of, whether real or merely perceived.

Yet Professor Severus Snape rarely failed to bring back valuable information on Voldemort's movements, often resulting in a large number of muggle and half- bloods being spared. That the was sole reason that Albus even allowed the potions master to risk his life at all. A necessary, yet no less painful, evil.

"Severus, my child." Albus mouthed, so as not to rouse the room's occupants. "Please return safely..."

Albus seldom slept on nights when Severus was summoned to the Dark Lord. He would often venture onto the grounds personally to await his return. Occasionally, Albus would end up carrying the potions master back into the castle; the latter being unconscious or too injured to walk.

On many nights, Hagrid would sense something was wrong, and crawl out of bed to help. Dumbledore wondered if Hagrid also stayed awake on the nights Severus was summoned to The Dark Lord.

Dumbledore looked almost wistfully toward the Forest, as though torn on whether he would rather await the return of his son in all but blood there, or to watch over Harry Potter, the hope of all the magical world.

The elderly man turned from the window to face Harry again, and noticed an unearthly effulgence over the boy's body. Whether the illumination could be measured in photons, or was purely visible on another plane of existence, even the aged wizard could not determine. All he could see, was that the dim light seemed to be emanating from Harry's temples and intersecting over his scar.

"Harry?" the Headmaster leaned closer to the boy, who still appeared to be in a deep slumber. "Harry?"

* * *

"Harry?" came a baritone voice from behind the boy. 

Harry Potter unwillingly turned from his mother's apparition to stare into...his own face! At least that's what he thought at first, until he noticed that the figure seemed somewhat older, and had more angular facial features. His nose was slightly more narrow, and his verdant eyes were conspicuously absent. In its place, were equally bright eyes the colour of hazel. The man's hair looked like Harry's would if he had spent hours of Quidditch practice in a low category hurricane.

"Dad?" Harry said hesitantly, recognizing the face as an older version of the one he had seen inside of Snape's Pensieve.

The apparition seemed to be rendered silent and stared in awe at Harry. Lily's form moved closer and gazed at him with eyes that Harry had seen many times in his own reflection.

"My son." Harry heard Lily's voice at last, but her mouth had not moved.

A flood of unfamiliar images fell upon him like a great wall of water. Vague memories of a red-haired woman singing softly to her infant, his father seating him in a baby swing and pushing it lightly; a green flash... And then...he saw another man, almost in the background of the hazy images. Harry did not recognize him at all, yet he seemed familiar somehow. The man had eyes the colour of the night sky, and flowing, waist length black hair; he was staring sadly at Harry, as his parents pushed him in a carriage along a well kept path in a fragrant park.

Once more the memory of Lily sitting in a hand-fabricated rocking chair materialised, and began singing softly a song that Harry knew was meant especially for him. The phantom Lily presently in front of Harry began singing as well; the same song. Harry remembered all of the words, though the memory had been relegated to obscurity for almost seventeen years.

"Mom!" Harry cried out at last, and dove into the spirit's arms. To Harry's shock, he did not go right through his mother's body as he suspected he might, but instead lulled into her embrace and felt nothing but the purest love.

Harry tried to hold back, but found that he had no control over the deluge that formed behind his eyes, and had weighed him down for nearly sixteen years. He turned to his father and pulled him into his arms as well and cried fervently. If the weight of his own tears had been heavy while he was still encumbered by his flesh, it could not be contained at all now. Harry held his long-missed parents for what seemed like hours, and seconds at the same time; moments lasting the duration of a heartbeat, and a lifetime. All the while, Lily and James held him, both silently expressing their joy at being united with their baby, who had aged 15 years since that horrible night when they were ripped from their lives.

"But..." Harry began, wiping his eyes on the sleeves of his white hospital gown, "...you're both dead, aren't you? Where is this place?"

James sat' next to Harry, although when Harry made to sit as well, he saw that there appeared to be nothing beneath James. Lily sat a short distance away from James, leaving a space between them for Harry.

"Come, son." Lily's voice rang out in Harry's mind again.

Harry mimicked his parents, and found that if had fell back to assume a recumbent position, some unseen force broke his fall and supported him. James and Lily each put an arm around Harry, and sat in silence for a time, as though they were bereft of words.

Harry took the initiative. "Did I...I...I died? I'm with you because I've died?"

"No Harry," came a hearty voice in his mind that he recognized instantaneously. Out of the whiteness in front of him walked Sirius Black, dressed in almost the same clothing Harry had watched him fall through the accursed veil in.

"Sirius!" Harry said, throwing his arms around his godfather and feeling tears forcing their way out of him again.

"If you had died, I'd most certainly have had to kill you!" Sirius said, tousling Harry's hair.

"But..." Harry started when he broke away from the headlock Sirius held him in. "I don't understand, if I'm not dead, and you're not alive..."

"Remember what you were doing before you came here?" James spoke softly.

"Yes," Harry said, cringing from the memories of what he had seen. When Harry looked up, he saw the three adults cringing as well.

"GODS!" Sirius shouted, punching his palm with his other fist. "Snivelly might be a git, but he doesn't deserve that!"

"You can see my thoughts?" Harry asked, trying to push the images of the pressurized hose out of his mind.

"Yes son," Lily stated, rubbing Harry's back. The red-headed woman then turned on Sirius. "And his name is SEVERUS, Sirius!"

Sirius scoffed at that, but his expressions no longer had the same intensity they had when he had been living. "I think you're here because you wanted so badly to escape. You didn't want to watch anymore, I guess. Your spirit just fled."

"Weak, though your body is, you're still alive, Harry. You may return at any time." James said comfortingly.

"How long can I stay?" Harry asked, secretly praying that he could tarry forever with these beings who loved him. Perhaps the only people, besides Hermione and Ron, who had ever loved him.

"We are existing outside of time now, son." James said, but his lips did not move. "You can leave now, or a thousand years from now, and no time will have passed."

The three adults suddenly aged' roughly 15 years. James developed patches of white in his messy black hair, while Lily's hair seemed to lose some of its intensity, and also showed strands of white. Sirius appeared exactly as Harry remembered him in life. The three of them of an age with Professor Lupin and Professor Snape. Harry was startled into silence, but at the same time, was greatly comforted by the older forms.

Even after talking with his parents and Sirius for a considerable amount of time, Harry found the present matters harder and harder to grasp. Lily seemed to sense her son's thoughts. "Spirits are not prisoners of linear time, my son. In life, time moves in an ordered way, a straight line from birth through death."

Harry furrowed his brows, trying desperately to follow.

"But spirits are not bound to that linear path. We stand just outside of it, and can jump onto random points at will. Come..." with that, Lily took hold of Harry's hand, and soon they were standing before two wizards who were busy perusing parchments scattered on the table before them. One, Harry did not recognize at all; but the other, who had long chestnut coloured hair, and the beginnings of a beard in the form of wispy sideburns, also had twinkling blue eyes!

"Albus Dumbledore?" Harry sputtered. "Sorry for intruding on you and uh...uh...Nicolas Flamel?"

"They can't see or hear us." Sirius sighed popping into the room and taking Harry's hand.

The scene changed once more, and Harry realised that he was now in number 12 Grimmauld Place. But the time must have been slightly different, because he saw Remus Lupin seated across from...Sirius Black!

"I tell you, Sirius." Remus said in his familiar hoarse voice, as he shook the liquor bottle before him for emphasis. "It could not hurt for you to try and talk to your mother's portrait once in a while. She might not be so angry..."

"You don't know the woman, Moony!" Sirius retorted, snatching the bottle back, and taking a long swig.

The scene changed on its own, when Harry randomly wondered what Ron would think if he had been here, and he was transported to he burrow, where he saw Ron, the twins, and Ginny flying low on their brooms and tossing a quaffle about.

Naturally, Harry's thoughts wandered to Hermione, who he rarely saw away from Ron during the school year. He was instantly transported to what looked like a muggle library, and a short distance away, Harry saw the bushy-haired girl, seated at a desk amid stacks of texts. Hermione was engrossed in her reading, staring at the pages as though they would run off at the slightest trace of inattention.

Harry thought of how uptight Hermione seemed most of the time, in sharp contrast to another girl, who seemed to express her emotions more freely. Sometimes too freely. This girl knew how to play, as well as work...even if she had the annoying habit of crying whilst engaging in either. Strangely, the delicious smell of almond cookies filled Harry's nostrils. And soon he saw Cho, dressed in a red silk dress with matching red ribbons in her hair, stoking the fires of an old wizarding oven.

"Grandfather!" Cho said, smiling lovingly at the aged wizard, who was skulking ever closer to a plate of almond cookies cooling nearby.

The man, who Harry noted had chestnut brown eyes which twinkled about as much as Dumbledore's usually did, smiled at Cho innocently. When the girl turned away to put the next batch of cookies into the oven, her grandfather swiped two of the cooling cookies and ran off before Cho could react.

Harry felt a certain warmth at seeing Cho with the smile back on her beautiful face, even if it faded soon after. She started sniffling as she closed the oven door. Cho was still grieving. Was she still weeping over Cedric, or perhaps over how badly things had turned out between them?

In flesh, Harry had been too wrapped up in his own problems to be sensitive to the feelings of anyone else. He had sulked nearly all the previous year; spoken harshly to those around him, including his closest friends; and had all but destroyed Headmaster Albus Dumbledore's office in his rage. In spirit however, Harry realized that taking even a few moments to discuss Cedric's death with Cho could have lifted some of the weight from her heart... as well as his.

People needed to grieve, Harry concluded. Even he needed to grieve, many times over, but he had never been allowed that luxury. The Dursleys would have gagged him if he had wept aloud for his parents; and as a teen, he had never allowed himself to think much on his reaction to seeing Cedric Diggory killed right before his eyes. He certainly hadn't allowed himself to grieve the death of his godfather Sirius Black, even though the paralysing and hurtful memory coursed like a scorpion's venom through his bloodstream several times a day.

Harry's mind meandered to some one who had also not been given the opportunity to grieve properly. Neville had never had such a chance. Harry raged. Who had thought that obliviating a child who had lost his parents was a sound means of helping them endure their grief?

Harry was subsequently transported from Cho's sweet smelling kitchen, to Neville Longbottom's proximity shortly thereafter. The boy was almost unrecognizable from the awkward and forgetful boy he had met in their first year. In Neville's eyes, he saw a determination not even Hermione at her most ambitious had rivalled. Due to the stringent rules against underage wizards practising magic away from Hogwarts, Neville could not practice any of the new skills he had learned from the D.A. in the previous year, but that did not seem to hinder him. Harry watched Neville repeatedly going through the motions with an ordinary cylinder of wood, and an arsenal of spells to rival Hermione's.

As the moments flowed by, and Neville's exhaustion began to set in, Harry entertained the thought of having the determined youth lead a few sessions with the D.A. himself. Harry decided then to revive the club in the upcoming school year.

"Professor Snape says that no one ever recovers from being cursed into insanity." Neville shouted as he executed a defensive manoeuver with astounding agility. "The bloody git doesn't know how to stop being so ruddy mean! He'll come to a sticky end someday, mother, father! But I **STILL**believe you both will recover someday."

It was then that Harry noticed a wizard picture sitting on the table next to Neville's dragon hide gloves. It was one of jovial wizard parents with a baby in their arms. The Longbottoms, they had to be.

"Good on you, Longbottom! Don't let Professor Snape tell you otherwise! Professor Snape is nothing more than a..." Harry paused, genuinely wondering why Professor Snape would have ever said such a cruel thing to Neville. No, Harry decided, he already knew the answer. Professor Snape was just a cruel and snarky git by his very nature. Making people who were already distressed feel worse was something the old bat enjoyed.

Harry paused once more. This seemed too cruel, even for Professor Snape somehow. Still, how would he know that no one typically recovered from being cursed to insanity? He was a potions master, after all. What the hell made Snape such an authority on the matter?

As if in reply, Neville's face receded into a highly accelerated blackness, and presently Harry found himself facing a wall which appeared to have been spelled to feel soft to the touch; like a padded cell. From the smells in the air, and the muffled sounds he heard through the nearby door, Harry deduced that he was in Saint Mungos Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries.

Harry turned from the padded wall, and was startled by the black, fathomless eyes of a woman, who seemed to be middle-aged, prematurely aged and very young at the same time. How that was possible, Harry couldn't ascertain. Her ashen skin was smooth, yet riddled with bruises and wounds at varying stages of healing. Some scarring around the woman's left eye made her skin appear more weathered than it actually was. The woman's nose could best be described as hawklike, although it did not detract from the matronly beauty which Harry was sure that no amount of time could fully erase. Yes, there was no other way to describe her than matronly. Her hair was black on first glance, but it luminesced red in the bright lights of the hospital room. Were it not for the occasional strands of white, Harry would have described her hair to be the colour of glowing coals.

Intermittently, the woman's whole body spasmed violently, and Harry was painfully reminded of his days recovering from his first experience with the Cruciatus curse. Could it have happened to this woman also?

Her crystal black eyes drew his attention once more. They were so familiar. Where had he seen such fathomless..?

It was then that Harry noticed a boy, either in late adolescence or early adulthood, seated on the floor beside the woman's wheelchair. The boy, whose almost waist-length hair was black and glossy, rested his head in the gaunt woman's lap.

"I'm so sorry, mother..." The boy began, his voice muffled partially by the fabric of the woman's robes. "I've failed you."

The voice sounded very familiar.

"Mother?" the boy said, looking up into the woman's blank face.

Although spirits could fly, levitate, or apparate at will, Harry lost his footing and fell on his backside when he saw the boy's face. It was the same face he had seen in Professor Snape's pensieve. This was indeed Severus Snape. He seemed to be a few years older than when Harry had seen him in the pensieve; on that fateful day on Hogwart's grounds, when Harry's father and friends had scorned and humiliated him. But it was young Severus Snape's hair that garnered a fair portion of Harry's attentions. If Snape's hair had been greasy both in Harry's present, and the past he had seen in the pensieve, not a vestige of said grease remained. Instead, Severus's hair was so clean that it appeared almost iridescent, and reflected the moderate light in the room like strands of black onyx.

Harry's gaze moved past the veil of black hair, and saw that the younger version of Snape was also wearing a hospital gown and robe. His bare feet were covered in bruises, and his breathing was very laboured. "Please, Mum," there were the beginnings of tears in Snape's eyes, and his lower lip was quivering so much that he bit it before continuing, "can you not respond?"

Professor Severus Snape's mother, Mervidith Snape, remained unresponsive. She just stared blankly, her dark eyes unfocused on anything in particular. There was no movement or even a twinkle to indicate that she was aware of her son's presence at all.

"Mum!" Snape shouted in a way Harry found almost surreal. "Mother! What have they done to you? What can I do to restore you? What potions can I brew?"

No response.

"It is I, Severus." Severus spoke the next words as though they grated on his nerves, "your little Sevvie.'" Snape took a moment to recover, as though he had just insulted himself. "I am your son! You do not even know I'm here, do you? You don't even know who I am? Mummy! I am your son!"

The boy's lips quivered even more as he folded his arms in his mother's lap, and rested his head on them once again. Because Harry had not risen from the floor, he was at eye-level with the young Severus, who was facing sadly in Harry's direction. Harry found it nearly impossible look away; to believe that the cold glares from his bitter potions professor, and these lachrymose, despairing eyes that held his attention now, were one in the same. Severus chewed on his lower lip and blinked his eyes more times than Harry thought was necessary to lubricate his already teary eyes. Severus then wiped at his face many times with those slender fingered hands, which Harry was more accustomed to seeing measuring liquids, and cutting up potions ingredients. He had never seen those hands trying so desperately to quell the flood of emotions that threatened, even though there was no one in the room who would witness it. Snape's eyes only glistened more for his efforts and soon, the potion master's facial muscles twitched around his mouth, causing his lower lip to tremble without the slightest bit of consideration for its owner's desire to appear invincible at all times.

In concession, the younger Severus finally shut his eyes tightly, and tears rolled over his nose and into his hair as he lost the struggle not to cry. He bit his lower lip so hard that Harry thought it might start bleeding, but he released it when a forceful whimper escaped him.

"I thought father would never have found you there." Severus choked out between sobs. "..and...and... those accursed followers, they're nothing but a mindless group of oafs who would burn their own homes to the ground and kill their own siblings if the Dark Lord commanded them to do so."

Snape speaking ill about his own colleagues?' Harry mouthed to himself in disbelief. More questions appeared at the event horizon of his mind, but he forced them back momentarily. As much as Harry disliked Snape, he did not want to be transported to another moment, or location in time. He wanted to better understand what was directly before him.

Harry found that he could no longer despise his lugubrious professor with the same degree of severity as before. All he had been able to see before the excursion into this man's pensieve, and this journey into a plane reserved only for souls, was a bitter, cruel and acrimonious shadow of the man he saw before him. It never occurred to Harry before that this man could be so vulnerable.

Harry felt guilty for yet again invading his teacher's private memories, but he was compelled to remain. Although he knew that he could do nothing for this person on the threshold of adulthood in this time, he began to wonder if he could offer some comfort or empathy to the man who existed in the same time as Harry's physical self did. He knew that Snape would probably give him detentions lasting until Harry was older than Dumbledore by about five years if the potions professor were to find out about Harry's being here. But Harry found it was not in his power to leave.

"I tried so hard to keep you safe...to save you from that brute who beat us for so many years. To save us both from the The Dark Lord and his accursed Death Eaters..." Snape said, tears still flowing down his cheeks and soaking into the white collar of his hospital gown. "I...I've...worked for so many years, hid my potions studies from father, and for what? How could things have gone so wrong?"

Snape's voice became so inundated with sobs and sniffles that Harry could not understand most of what he said. Harry, however, did make out the words prolonged cruciatus,' because of me,' and 'repeatedly.' Harry shivered at the possible meanings.

Just then, a knock was heard at the door to Mervidith Snape's room. Snape tried so desperately to destroy the evidence of his uncharacteristic display of emotions, that he nearly abraded his skin when he scrubbed his tears violently on his sleeves. The door opened a crack, and Harry recognized the form of Albus Dumbledore immediately.

"Severus?" The Headmaster begin with the twinkle in his eyes somewhat dimmer than normal. "I thought I might find you here. How is your mother?"

Severus immediately put his bitter mask on, or at least attempted to do so. Apparently, the look was not effective at all when presented with red, puffy eyes. "How the bloody hell do you think?"

The headmaster appeared completely unshaken by the younger man's outburst and sat beside him. Albus looked up into Mervidith Snape's unseeing eyes. "She will be cared for the by the best medical staff in the magical world, Severus."

"I have full confidence that her physical injuries will heal." Severus said in a sharp voice. "Mother has had more than adequate experience in healing from physical injuries ." The intensity of Snape's voice trailed off, becoming barely audible. "But will her mind...will her mind..." He couldn't continue.

"It is too soon to tell, my boy." Dumbledore said, gingerly placing a hand on Snape's back, and rubbing comforting circles when he felt no sign of resistance from the younger man. Snape jumped when Dumbledore's hand came in contact with an apparently sensitive area on the lower part of his back. "For now, you must go back to your room. You're not well enough yourself yet."

"But..."Snape began, but he could not continue. Dumbledore slowly wrapped an arm around the trembling youth's shoulder, careful not to exacerbate his injuries, physical or otherwise. Snape made a half hearted attempt to pull away, and then he made some very out of place comments about the weather outside.

Judging from the extent of Snape's wounds, Harry concluded that Severus would not been allowed outside for quite some time. In all likelihood, Albus Dumbledore knew that as well.

When Severus began to talk about the wallpaper, and the different types of wallpaper adhesives available, Albus took Severus fully into his arms. "It is all right, my boy. It is all right."

Albus comforted Severus as he covered his face and began to cry again, this time with more intensity and fervour than before. Unbeknownst to Severus, the aged headmaster cried as well, in utter silence.

Albus Dumbledore listened to everything the boy had to say, when Severus had regained enough of his composure to speak coherently once more. Albus listened, but forestalled Severus if he made any self depreciating, or slanderous comments against himself.

The door opened again, and this time, a few of the mediwitches and mediwizards from both the Spell Damage and Severe Injury wards entered the room. "We've been looking for you Severus, you must go back to your bed now! You've still some treatments and potions to..."

"Go away, you incompetent, ineffectual, gauche, unskilful and negligent gathering of ignoramuses!" Snape shouted, as he blotted his face so hard on his sleeves, that Harry was sure he must have removed a layer or two of skin. The ensuing red colour made it look as though he had taken a shrivelfig grater to the area under his eyes and down his cheeks. Albus put a hand comfortingly on Snape's arm, causing Severus to wince again. Harry began to wonder about the true extent of Snape's injuries, when Albus and the staff tried to help the young man off the floor. Severus could hardly stand, let alone walk on his own. He grew paler with each of the three steps to the wheelchair the staff had brought for him.

"Go gently, my boy." Albus coaxed, helping the orderlies seat Severus back into the chair.

"Arrgh!" Severus jumped to his feet once more, and that was when Harry noticed that one of Snape's legs had obviously been broken and was splinted in thick bandaging materials. As the staff and Albus Dumbledore tried to seat Snape in the wheelchair again, he shifted repeatedly, as though he could not find a position that didn't cause him great pain. The bottom of Snape's robes rode up in the process, and Harry saw that Snape's other leg was covered almost entirely in bruises and scratches, with the greatest concentration of bruises being up his inner thighs. Snape suddenly shifted forward in the wheelchair, causing the gown to slip off his shoulders , and Harry saw similar bruising, incisions, lacerations and abrasions all over Severus Snape's chest and back.

Harry wondered what in the world had happened to his future potions professor as he watched Albus cover Snape's shoulders with a white blanket. Having only seen Snape in black before, he looked like a different person entirely. The red, puffy eyes, and fearful expression only made him less easy to recognize. Harry couldn't help but wonder what events led up to Snape's mother being tortured to the point where she relinquished her sanity, as well as what happened to Snape. As cruel as Snape could be, not even he deserved the torture he had evidently received.

As though in a pensieve containing the memories of the entire universe, the scene before Harry changed yet again.

Harry was now standing in a comfortable living room which looked as though it belonged to a moderately wealthy wizarding family. The walls were done in muted green tones and was furnished lavishly with paintings, furniture, sculptures, and other artifacts one might expect to see in Lucius Malfoy's house. Yet the place looked slightly poorer than one might expect of the Malfoy's Mansion, and that was when Severus Snape entered the room dragging two large trunks. He began packing things with a sense of great urgency, filling the trunks with books, some of the milder looking paintings, moving photographs, and a sewing basket filled with balls of yarn and knitting needles?

At the sound of uneven footsteps behind him, Harry turned around, and came face to face with the woman he had seen in the St Mungos hospital room. Although she still had the appearance of a woman who had been battered at least several times a week, she wasn't unresponsive and mute now and her eyes were wide in wonder. "Sevvie? What are you doing?"

"Mother, remember before I departed to go to Hogwarts for the first time? And I said that I'd see to it that you'd never have to endure father's beatings again?" Severus said, throwing some albums and framed portraits into the trunk, much to the horror of the picture's occupants. "Well I never make promises I can't uphold, and today I am honouring that promise."

Severus, while emptying the contents of some nearby cabinets into the trunks, went on to explain that he had secured his mother a modest home in a remote, muggle village in Alsace, France. She would have the opportunity to work, make new friends, pursue interests, and otherwise live unencumbered by her overbearing husband.

"I-I"

"Fear not, mother. You'll not be without contact with the Magical World, for there is a wizarding village a few kilometres beyond Alsace." The best part of all, Severus continued, was that there were members of the Rogue family in that wizarding village, who were distant relatives on his mother's side of the family.

"But Sevvie, you've only left Hogwarts a year ago, and been at the University until now! How did you ever afford to purchase a house?" Mervidith Snape asked, as she joined her son packing.

"Remember that money you secretly sent for me to go on Hogsmeade weekends?" Severus began. "Well most of the time I never went, and set every knut I could spare aside. When I did go to Hogsmeade, I spent the money on potion ingredients, and later sold the potions. I've been freelancing in much that way for years."

"Without a potions master license?"

"The apothecaries couldn't resist the bargains I offered for the potions. Once they tested the purity of the potions I made, I could hardly keep up with the demand." Severus said, relishing the pride he saw on his mother's face. "Even though I sold my potions for far less money than any of the apothecary supply companies charged, I was still paid a respectable sum each time I filled an order. Soon I was collecting bribes and kick-backs from apothecaries in wizarding Japan and America to develop and test new potions, and being that they are the world's largest economies, the exchange rate into galleons was very handsome. "

"My precious, boy." the woman with glowing coal coloured hair said, as she took her grown son into her arms. "To think I would ever be deserving of such a gift."

"Everyone deserves a life without fear and oppression every day, mother." Snape said, stopping to lock the filled trunk. "It is not a gift, but a right."

"No my dear boy. I was referring to you." Mervidith said, wiping at her dark eyes with a handkerchief. "What did I ever do to deserve the gift of a son such as yourself?"

For once, Snape was too moved to speak.

Even if he did have a reply, it was cut short by the Elder Snape's early return. The sound of the door crashing open against the foyer wall was all the evidence anyone needed.

"Quick, mum!"Severus shouted, tossing a handful of floo powder into the fireplace. "Leave now! I shall deal with father."

"But Sevvie...!"

Severus chose not to argue, and gently pushed his mother, and a suitcase he had packed earlier, into the fireplace. He then shouted the location, and Mervidith Snape vanished in the green flames.

Harry stared after the woman, in awe of what he had just heard. He was ripped from his reverie by the ghastly sound of a fist striking flesh.

"Confound it, boy!" Harry saw Lucien Snape standing over Severus, who lay sprawled on the floor, rubbing his bloody jaw. "Where the bloody hell is your mother!"

"Gone, you whoreson!" Severus retorted, rubbing his aching jaw.

"You...will...not...take...that...disrespectful...tone...with...me!" Lucien screamed, emphasising his every word with a coinciding blow of equal intensity to his dark-haired son.

Harry had to look away when the pale man dove onto Severus and pummelled him mercilessly.

The Elder Snape then hauled his bleeding son off the floor, and struck him again and again. Harry, momentarily forgetting that he was not really on the same plane of existence, ran to them and attempted to pull Lucien off Severus. His hands passed right through the pair, Harry did not possess a solid form.

Oddly, Harry noticed a lurid grin on the potion master's face which seemed sickeningly out of place considering the circumstances. As the subsequent blows landed, and more bruising and blood appeared, Snape's smile grew even wider. Almost like a grin of pure, unadulterated triumph.

"Mother is where you can never hurt her again!" Young Snape whimpered, his tears mingling with the copious measure of blood on his cheeks. Severus looked as thought he was starting to say something else, but Lucien's fist smashed into his mouth, knocking two of his son's lower teeth loose.

"Stop it!" Harry said, once again trying to pry Lucien Snape's hands off of Severus's collar.

"No more!" Severus sobbed at last.

"Look at you, crying like the milksop you are!" Lucien sneered. "Very well, if you will tell me where your mother is, perhaps I'll not whip you for your insolence as well."

"I have already told you." Severus screamed. "She's safe from you!"

"How dare you? She's my wife!"

"How dare YOU!" Severus whimpered boldly. "She's my mother!"

"You WILL tell me precisely where she is!" The Elder Snape shouted at his son as he began removing his belt, then thinking better of it, summoned a bullwhip he reserved for the times when he felt Severus deserved it most. "You're not too old for the lash. You'll tell me where your mother is even if I have to beat it out of you."

The look of pure terror at the sight of the bullwhip was something Harry had never thought he would see on his professor's face. Severus was literally petrified in fear, as was Harry.

Harry leaned close to Severus's face. "Prof-- Snape! You've got to get away! Go! Go now!"

Something flashed in Snape's eyes as though he had somehow heard Harry's words. He then bounded out the maple doors, across the lawn, and through the tree containing the wards leading to the muggle street, dragging two of the packed trunks behind him.

When the faces began to appear in the windows of neighbouring houses, Severus turned back to find the livid man still in pursuit.

"You'll not hurt us again!" Severus hissed through his swollen, cut lips; the blood from his face and body making grotesque red florets on the pavement.

And with that, the eighteen year-old Severus Snape apparated away.

End Part Three


	4. The Unborn Sentinel

**Resurgence of Remembrance**by **Avatar Arkmage** and **Nigel Tatsuya**  
Chapter Four: **The Unborn Sentinel**

Roused by urgent pounding at the door to her private quarters, Nurse Poppy Pomfrey rolled sleepily onto her back. She had retired less than four hours before, after deciding that Harry Potter's condition, poor, though it was, was at least stable. The headmaster had also assured her that he and the currently lupine Remus Lupin would watch over the boy, and would alert her should his condition worsen.

Poppy emerged from her quarters, clad in her nightwear and dishevelled hair. She gaped at Headmaster Dumbledore, whose white beard was stained with random patches of crimson. Standing beside him was Hagrid, who held a very bizarrely clad, and very battered Professor Severus Snape in his arms.

"Get him to the triage area immediately," ordered the nurse, as she ran from cabinet to cabinet gathering the supplies she thought would be needed. Once again, she was grateful for Snape's almost obsessive nature as she found her potion cabinet fully restocked with healing potions.

It was ironic that she would be using them on their own brewer.

Hagrid deposited Professor Severus Snape on an empty triage bed. Having assisted Madam Pomfrey in tending Severus a number of times before, both Albus Dumbledore and Hagrid picked up pairs of charmed shears and began divesting him of his tattered clothes. The shears cut neatly through the fabric, and even cut the chains on Snape's jeans, but they were charmed specifically not to cut flesh; which was a good thing, since Hagrid's hand slipped when he saw the extensive bruising along Snape's ribs.

"Take care not to injure me further!" the now conscious Professor Snape chided. Severus then turned to Dumbledore, who was cutting through the other leg of his jeans. "Headmaster, the Dark Lord's forces will attack within the next two days, they'll be using ..."

"Professor Dumbledore!" Madam Pomfrey scolded as she placed more implements on the table with a loud clatter. "What have I told you about asking questions whilst the patient is still in need of treatment? Your spy, though he might be, Severus is still my patient, and I must ask you not to exhaust him further!"

The Headmaster was about to protest that he hadn't asked the potions master anything, when Severus waved his hand and produced a scroll, which he floated over to Dumbledore. "All the details are in there."

"We'll be waitin' outside." Hagrid said, with tears in his eyes as he watched Severus's laboured breathing.

"Headmaster," Snape continued as Poppy began her work, "it would be prudent to exercise caution whilst YEAAOWOOOOCH! THAT BLOODY HURT, POPPY!"

"Well it wouldn't hurt as much if you would hold still, and do as you're instructed. And you will stop trying to sit up!" Madam Pomfrey countered as she gently pushed him back onto the bed.

"We can discuss this at length when you are in better condition, Severus," the Headmaster then walked out of the hospital wing.

* * *

Harry, who was still enjoying his newfound freedom as a spirit, was at the same time deeply shaken by what he had just witnessed. Domestic violence was a matter that hehad read about in the newspapers, and heard discussed on the news programmes over the years. He had even experienced it at the hands of the Dursleys. 

Apparently, not even the wizarding world was immune to its heavy, and indiscriminate hand.

Presently, the bloody floret on pavement was all that remained of his future potion master. Harry had watched in horror as Snape's father had beaten him, and threatened to employ the lash.

It had never occurred to Harry that anything could have frightened his potion's professor so much. Sure, Harry had seen Snape afraid before. During his third year, when Severus Snape had seen Remus Lupin and Sirius Black together with Harry, Hermione and Ron, the dour man had been horror-struck. However, the horror he had seen on Snape's face when Lucien Snape removed his belt was different.

From within the cupboard under the stairs, Harry had often heard random bits from whatever programme Dudley, Petunia or Vernon Dursley happened to watching on the telly. He vaguely recalled documentaries on several historical tyrants, and though they each terrorised different populations with varying degrees of cruelty, they all shared similar childhoods. Each of them had been abused by those who were charged with caring for them.

Harry's mind returned once more to Professor Severus Snape. To be sure, there were times he that he presided over his potions classes like a power mad dictator. He routinely instilled fear into the very students he should have been instructing; as though he believed that belittling and terrorising were an acceptable means to assure his lesson plans would remain in the minds of the 'dunderheaded' students.

Yet, to Professor Snape's credit, he excelled at potion brewing. Dictators and tyrants were often only as good as the thugs who carried out their shifty deeds. Without their "minions," many tyrants could barely survive, but Professor Snape did not seem to need minions, and could make a splendid living as a potion brewer by his own proficiency.

"How did you become so good at what you do?" Harry caught himself asking aloud, and regretted it immediately when his surroundings dissolved about him like a mandala's sand in a hurricane.

Harry knew he was back in the Snape family home once more, only this time, he found himself standing amid tall marble shelves stocked with jars and packages of potion ingredients. As though pulled by an unseen tether, Harry passed through the shelves, and emerged just behind a small, black-haired boy. The boy was dressed in white laboratory robes so oversized, that Harry guessed they belonged to one of the boy's adult guardians. Upon closer observation, Harry deduced that the boy was a very young Severus Snape. He had lanky black hair that was showing the first signs of greasiness, almost sickly pale flesh, and a nose that appeared too large for his tiny face.

The boy seemed almost familiar now. Not only because Harry knew this to be his future despised potions professor, but because Harry had seen this boy before in a dream; a dream Harry had had whilst nearly drowning in the Dursley's bathtub just a few days ago. In the dream, the boy had been held under very hot water by his own father.

Harry observed the young Severus Snape, who looked to be no more than seven or eight years old, work at a caldron on a long polished wood table. The cauldron was so large that little Severus had to stand on two wooden chairs stacked one on top of the other to either stir, or add ingredients to it. When Severus had to add a large bowl of ground herbs to the brew, he clambered onto the table and leaned over the rim of the cauldron as he did so.

From what Harry could discern, the potion was quite complex, and would greatly challenge even a sixth or seventh year potions student. Even Hermione might struggle with it. Yet here was young Severus, counting his strokes with the long wooden stirrer whilst he recited a very long incantation, as though this were something he did almost every day.

Finally Severus decanted some of the potion into a small phial and scampered out of the room. Harry had no choice but to follow. As young Severus made his way up the stairs, Harry floated up through two floors until he was standing at the foot of a large, four-poster bed.

"Here mummy, take this," the little boy said in an urgent voice.

Harry gasped. Severus's Snape's mother was barely conscious, and looked as though she had been the victim of a brutal assault very recently. She wore only a dirty, tattered skirt, covered randomly with patches of drying blood. Her nearly skeletal upper body was bruised, and bandaged tightly, as though to set her ribs in place. There was also a magical cold pack bound to her head.

"Sevvie?" Mervidith Snape queried hoarsely. Her black eyes remained closed, and Harry guessed it was because they were too swollen to be opened. "You haven't been brewing potions again have you?"

"You need them," replied Severus. He held the phial to his mother's lips until she weakly swallowed the potion.

Both Harry and Severus watched with interest for the next few minutes, as the swelling around Mervidith's eyes abated enough for her to open them and turn to her son. Her breathing also became a little less laboured.

"Thank you, you're such a thoughtful boy." Mervidith reached across, and patted Severus on the head, "but you know your father does not permit you in his laboratory. Please, don't do anything to anger him, my son."

Little Severus did not seem to hear. "Go back to sleep now, you need your rest, or your ribs won't knit properly. I'll bring you more potions in about two hours."

"Sevvie!" Mervidith rasped, attempting to sit up. "I forbid you to make any more potions. If your father catches you at this, he is likely to..."

She stopped when Severus lowered his head and obscured his face with his tiny hands.

"I already know what he'll do!"

"My son, I know you're not doing this purely out of defiance," Mervidith whispered, pulling Severus closer and wrapping an arm around his narrow shoulders. She winced as a new wave of pain tore through her body.

"Mother," Severus was obviously trying to look stronger than he felt. His lower lip trembled, and his black eyes grew watery, "you're hurt, you are not supposed to move about. Your bones won't heal properly."

"And you won't grow properly, as you've not eaten since this morning," Mervidith said, glancing at the clock. "Do not worry, I will go gently. Let me prepare some food."

"You don't need to, mother! I've already eaten a lot of bread," lied young Severus, just before his stomach growled loudly.

"Evidently not enough," Mervidith said, regarding him suspiciously.

Harry was amazed. Either Mervidith Snape had an abnormally high pain threshold, or the child Snape could brew exceptionally potent healing potions. With apparently minimal discomfort, Mervidith pulled on a blouse, rose from her bed and hobbled quickly downstairs toward the kitchen.

Young Severus sighed and headed back toward the laboratory in at the lowest level of the house, dragging the spirit Harry along with him. "I should have added a sedative to the healing potions," the boy mumbled to himself, and Harry quietly agreed.

They were still on the first level of Snape Manor when a loud thud resounded from the direction of the front entrance. "Oh no," Harry heard the child Severus mumble, a fraction of a second before running outside to investigate.

"Father!" Severus screamed. Lucien Snape was sprawled face-down on the porch. A Death Eater Mask lay cracked on the boards beside the unconscious man, and his white clothes and hair were randomly stained in red.

With remarkable strength for one so young, Severus rolled his father onto his back, quickly assessed the damage, and carefully dragged him into the manor. "Oh father, what's happened to you?" Severus asked.

Judging from the era, Harry guessed that Lucien Snape had been injured at one of the many Death Eater, or Knights of Walpurgis, raids. Little Severus would learn of this much later, when he became a Death Eater himself.

"Father? Father!" Lucien remained non-responsive, even as Severus put his head on his father's chest. "You're not breathing! Go on, father draw a breath!" Severus's frantic cries became sobs. "Please, I don't want you to die, father!

Little Severus dragged his sire into one of the washrooms and began filling the bath. The boy then ran back to the laboratory, pulled one of the cauldrons into the washroom and emptied it into the bath. Without delay, Severus deposited his father, soiled robes and all, into the potion-enriched water.

"Please," Severus whimpered, then hid his face against the side of the bath.

Exposed heavily to the vapours from the potion-laden waters, Lucien drew a long, raspy breath.

Severus quickly rose and left once again, and Harry assumed it was because he did not want to be around when his father fully regained consciousness, but the boy soon returned with three phials of freshly decanted potions. Severus applied the contents from two of the phials directly to the worst of Lucien's injuries, and poured the contents of the third into the unconscious man's mouth.

Lucien gagged, and his grey eyes opened wide.

Harry was about to tell Severus to run away, but the boy was already fleeing. Lucien dove from the bath and caught Severus by the hair. He examined one of the phials briefly, then cast it in front of the boy's face. "I did not brew these potions!"

Severus only stared at the phial in terror.

"What have I told you about brewing potions?"

Young Severus winced as Lucien pulled harder on his hair.

"Answer me!" ordered Lucien. "What have I told you about brewing potions?"

"You told me not to," whimpered little Severus.

"So you've disobeyed me yet again." Lucien's voice had dropped a few decibels. Ironically, it was even more frightening than if he were yelling, causing even spirit Harry to shiver. "I've forbidden you from even entering my laboratory, yet you've even gone so far as experiment with new concoctions. You understand the consequences, do you not?"

Severus's eyes filled with tears anew. Even Harry feared for him.

"Lucien!" Mervidith entered the washroom whilst wiping her hands on a kitchen towel. "Let him go!"

"Get out!" Lucien shouted, dragging Severus out of the washroom along with him.

"Your clothes are drenched, Lucien! Have your bath and leave Sevvie alone!"

Without warning, Lucien slapped his wife hard across the face. "Stand aside!"

"Lucien, he's just a baby!" Mervidith screamed, pushing Lucien so fiercely that he fell backwards on the wet floor. "You will not beat him again!"

The elder Snape then turned his fury onto his wife. Within moments, Mervidith was on the floor, only feebly attempting to defend herself from the fierce blows.

"No, father!" Severus wailed. "No more hurting mummy."

"You dare tell me what I may, or may not do to my wife?"

"You've already hurt her today!" Severus shouted back, trying to stand between his parents even while Lucien held his hair tightly. "If this continues, she'll die!"

Lucien kicked Severus out of the way, and dragged Mervidith to their bedroom. Severus hobbled after them, screaming that he did not want to see his mother dead. Harry could not bear to watch, yet at the same time, he could not turn away.

"Get out of here, Severus! You've already earned yourself a beating, now leave before I'll have to administer an additional punishment. Wait in your room, I'll get to you as soon as I'm done with your mother."

Harry covered his ears as the woman's screams resonated from behind the closed door. He was very concerned for the young Severus in this time, and he soon found himself seated on a child's bed in what must have been young Severus's room. Severus entered the room moments later, looking horrified with tears streaming from his cheeks. Each time he heard his mother scream, he mouthed "stop" or "no more, father!"

"I haven't brewed those potions to defy you," wept Severus to the apparently empty room, "if I hadn't learned you'd both be..."

Harry vaguely remembered the dream he had had once more, where he had seen a very young Severus being forced into a tub of very hot water. He then realized that hadn't been a dream. Why had he connected with Snape's memories that time? Could it be a residual effect of Occlumency? Or something more?

The child Severus joined Harry on the bed and began to sniffle fearfully. More than anything, Harry wanted to help this boy, to save him, to protect him from his father, anything but allow him to be beaten. Harry sighed, knowing that he was a spirit and could do nothing in this time. All these events had already happened. Not knowing why he did so, Harry wrapped an arm around the crying child and kissed him on the forehead.

To Harry's bewilderment, the child Severus turned in his direction and rubbed the area on his forehead that Harry had just kissed. "Mother told me there were guardian angels," Severus said, looking hopefully in Harry's direction. "Are you mine?"

How Harry wished he could be heard at this moment.

"Please don't let father kill mum!" Severus assumed a classic position employed by children praying for supernatural intervention; he knelt and folded his hands. Harry gasped, he had never expected Snape to be praying to him. "Father says he will kill mother one day. I don't want him to kill her, please don't let her die...and...and I don't want him to die either. I just want him to not beat us anymore."

Just then, the elder Snape burst into the room with his belt in hand. The man roughly grabbed Severus by the wrist and threw him against the wall.

"Take your whipping like a man!"

Harry turned away. This he could not watch, and could almost feel the lash upon his own back when he heard the little boy start screaming as the belt struck him. The beating continued with a steady, violent pulse.

"Lucien, STOP!"came the Mervidith Snape's voice again.

Harry turned to see Snape's mother run into the room and cover her little boy's body with her own.

"Get out, woman!" Lucien yelled. "You're only teaching him to hide behind his mother's skirts. We don't need a coward for a son, now move!"

"He's only a baby!" the woman shouted back. "He's my baby!"

Harry trembled as he watched the man haul his wife off of the boy and bash her with his bare fists, not caring that little Severus was watching.

Harry could bear no more, and the violent scene at Snape Manor faded around him.

* * *

Had Severus Snape, and his mother Mervidith Snape, truly endured this kind of treatment until the moment Harry saw them escape many years later? 

Harry then wondered how Snape's mother had fared away from their family home, and instantly, the sweet smell of grapes filled the air around him..

Harry found himself standing centimetres away from a bunch of ripe grapes. When he pulled back, he saw rows of grapes in every direction, and heard the sounds of workers singing as they harvested them. Harry recognised one voice, the only one who singing in English, and when he turned in that direction, he saw Mervidith Snape...but she looked nothing like Harry remembered. She had filled out somewhat, and bore a faint golden colour to her rosy cheeks, which no longer bore the signs of abuse. On her back, was a very large wicker basket which she was tossing bunches of grapes into, just like the other workers in the vicinity were doing.

"This is Snape's mum, not my mum!" Harry reprimanded himself when he realised he was revelling in the woman's happiness, but the strange feeling of comfort at seeing her content in her new life only increased as time wore on.

The scene changed, and Harry was soon standing amid shelves in what appeared to be a muggle health store. At the counter near the deli, mixing freshly squeezed fruit juices and herbs was none other than Snape's mum, regarding the food processor before her the same way Harry had seen Arthur Weasley regard most muggle artifacts. Mervidith Snape seemed to jump for joy whenever a customer ordered a health drink, and fully relished any task requiring the use of the food processor.

Harry overheard a very important appearing customer telling the proprietor of the establishment that the drinks were outstanding, and if they would be interested in expanding the marketing of the drinks to a chain of grocery stores all over Europe. Harry looked back at Mervidith Snape, who was gleefully preparing potion ingredients with the noisy food processor during a brief ebb in the constant line of customers ordering health drinks. Harry realized that Severus must have inherited his love of potion brewing from his mother.

"Madam!" A customer called her attention. "I'd like to order another one of your special herbal anti-inflammatory brews. And flavour it with guava juice, please?"

The scene changed abruptly, and Harry found himself standing in a small, brightly-illuminated living room. The second-hand furniture made the room look very lived in, and comforting. Otherwise, the home was furnished rather oddly. There were several food processors and blenders on the bookshelves, tables and counter tops. The door to the kitchen was open, and Harry saw three blenders lined up side by side on the counter.

In the middle of the room, seated on a leather chair was Mervidith Snape...watching Mach Go Go (Speed Racer) on a black and white television. Harry watched in wonder as Mervidith knitted with incredible efficiently, whilst never looking away from the television. The only times she ever stopped knitting, was to cheer Go Mifune on.

As the sun began to set, Mervidith put aside her knitting to prepare dinner, making use of no less than four separate blenders. She kept running to the window and looking up the road, as though expecting some one to arrive. Harry watched her at work, and realized that he had been deprived of a true home cooked meal prepared by a loving blood relative. No matter how intricate or complex the meals at Hogwarts were, he heard it said time and again that there were few pleasures greater than a dinner prepared at home by one's mother, father, an aunt or uncle, or grandparent, or some other loving relative. Harry had been forced to do much of the cooking in the Dursley's house, so he knew the taste of home cooked meals, but never the comfort of having them prepared by someone who loved him. Harry then began to feel a twinge of jealousy toward Snape, but not much.

Harry sat at the table in silence, watching the woman work. Although he was a spirit, his mouth watered as he sensed the delicious smells of pureed chowder and roast; a roast that had its accompanying vegetables cut too small, since Mervidith had accidentally turned the processor on to "mince" instead of "chop."

After Mervidith ran to the window and then back again, she began to prepare a peach pie. Having rarely been allowed to watch Aunt Petunia prepare a dessert before, Harry watched Snape's mother prepare the ingredients with the same surgical precision he had seen Snape use on potions ingredients. So mesmerized was Harry, that when a peach rolled off the counter, he jumped off of the chair, picked it up, and handed it back.

To Harry's surprise, Mervidith Snape looked a bit startled at first, but showed no further signs of fear. It was as though she had been able to see him, if only for the slightest moment. How had he managed to interact with something in the physical world?

"I know who you are," Mervidith said as she looked directly at Harry with the peach still in her hand. There was nothing but the purest adoration in her eyes. "You are a preborn soul! You're what some muggles think of as an angel!" Although Mervidith appeared to not be able to see Harry anymore, she kept her gaze in his direction as though hoping for another glimpse. "Beautiful, green-eyed child. So very much like Sevvie.. You must be Sevvie and Lily's son." The older woman smiled lovingly. "My precious grandson, soon to walk this Earth with us. Please get here soon. Grandmother can hardly wait for you."

Harry knew he should be shocked, or that he should at least be thinking that this woman was insane, but he felt a connection with her that seemed as fathomless as infinite space and time. This woman **was his grandmother.** She had to be. In his heart, Harry knew that only one's true grandmother could reach across time in this way. The logical part of him said that this was Severus Snape's mother, so this could not be possible.

His heart refused to concur.

A soft pop from outside the house drew Mervidith Snape's attention, and she smiled as she continued to prepare the peach pie.

A few minutes later, an adult Severus Snape, clad in university robes, walked through the door and greeted his mother.

* * *

After dinner the two retired to the living room. Mervidith returned to her leather chair, while Severus walked over to the sofa. 

"YAAH!" Snape shouted as he sat down. He pulled a pair of knitting needles from under him, and was about to toss them into his mother's sewing basket when he stopped cold. On the end of the needles, was a baby-sized blue wool hat! Severus looked at the basket next to his mother's chair, and saw it filled with baby jumpers, infant sized booties and mittens.

"Mother," Severus choked uncharacteristically, "you've not been in Alsace that long...you...you're not... " His voice dropped to utter silence, but even Harry could see that Snape had mouthed the word "baby."

The dark-haired woman burst out laughing so hard that Harry was sure she would fall out of her chair and go rolling on the floor. "No silly, I'm not pregnant! I'd have needed to master the science of parthenogenesis for that to happen any time soon!"

Severus developed the same expression on his face, that a pet snake would wear if one tried to teach it arithmancy or Quidditch.

"Sevvie, these are for YOUR baby!"

"WHAT BABY?" Severus said, his eyes going larger than Harry thought normal eyes could probably go.

"You're still dating that Evans girl right?" Mervidith took the knitting needles from Severus and resumed work on the hat.

"Yes, yes of course," Snape said, his tone becoming less sure of himself. "But she's not...well...you know...expecting. She's said nothing of the sort to me.."

Harry did the not hear the next few minutes of the conversation. If it were possible for spirits to faint, that was exactly what he must have done. He could not believe that his mother, Lily Evans, would ever date such a morose person like Severus Snape. Hadn't he called her a mudblood in their fifth year?

'This simply could not be!' Harry decided. 'He must have been in the midst of a bizarre dream, or utterly insane! Lily Evans had nothing in common with Severus Snape! He grew up to be a greasy git, an intolerant teacher...'

Then again, the Snape before him was not the same dour man that he remembered from his own present.

When Harry made himself pay attention to the conversation again, he noticed that Severus was leaning forward in the sofa as though very interested now. Mervidith Snape was knitting very rapidly and talking at about the same speed.

"Sevvie, you yourself may have been unplanned, but not unwanted." Mervidith said fondly. "I was only fifteen when you were conceived, yet you brought me the happiest years of my life. And I don't just mean this year, but all 19 of your years. You and Lily are not much older than I was..."

"Mother," Severus said, absently throwing a ball of yarn back and forth in his hands. "Why are you so sure that the baby will arrive soon. How do you know he or she won't arrive ten or fifteen years from now?"

"Sevvie dear, are you familiar with the phenomenon of angels or preborn spirits?"

Severus sneered, but the expression lacked any shadow of malice or true distaste. "There's little evidence to support..."

"Not any we can measure with conventional methods, son." Mervidith stood from her chair and joined Severus on the sofa. Harry, wondering if he would be detected again, joined them. Mervidith turned in Harry's direction and smiled briefly before turning back to Severus. "But Sevvie, when I was fifteen, I began to have recurring dreams of a beautiful little boy with eyes the colour of the night sky. I'd dream of him every night, during the days and once I even thought that I saw his reflection in the mirror as I brushed my hair. Within the year, you were born, and when the mediwitch placed you in my arms, I recognized your face as that little angel who meandered into my dreams. About a month ago, I began to see another child. A beautiful boy with black hair, and eyes the colour of the first leaves of spring. I see him every time I fall asleep, and this afternoon, he appeared in the kitchen before me."

Harry gaped, while Severus scoffed, this time with conviction.

"Doubt me if you will," Mervidith said sadly, "but do not delay, Sevvie. Talk to Lily when you return to London tonight. If my premonitions are correct, dear Lily might be either about to conceive, or already with your child."

Harry glanced at the magical calendar on the wall, and saw that the date was November 5, 1979.' After a quick calculation, Harry realized since he had been born on July 31, 1980, it was likely that he had just been conceived.

"Very well, mother, I will talk to Lils tonight." Severus rose, hugged the older woman, and then departed.

Harry was about to leave also. More than anything else, he wanted to talk to his own mother now. Surely there was no possibility that she would ever find a git like Snape even remotely attractive enough to date, and much less conceive a child with.

Or was there a possibility?

Harry shook the thoughts back out of his mind. There was no way Snape would ever date, or make children with a muggle born. The teenaged Severus Snape had called Lily Evans a mudblood, so surely...

Or were those things Harry heard said in the Pensieve merely said out of anger?

Then again, if this woman was not Harry's grandmother, he'd be absolutely broken-hearted. He had never felt such a deep connection before, nor had he felt this form of love from anyone...love just for him.

* * *

Just then, there was another pop just beyond Mervidith Snape's yard, and at first, Harry thought Snape had returned. Mervidith must have thought the same thing, because she ran to the door with a grin on her face that rivalled the one that Harry had seen Molly Weasley sport quite often toward her own children. 

Harry froze when he saw not Severus Snape, but Lucien Snape staring at his estranged wife with a look of pure loathing.

End Part Four


	5. Descent

**Remembrance and Renewal** by **Avatar Arkmage** and **Nigel Tatsuya**   
Chapter Five:**Descent**

"Okay, Professor Snape, take a deep breath." Nurse Poppy Pomfrey secured the binding around Severus's midsection. The entire process had been a harrowing ordeal for both nurse and patient. Over the last six hours, she had employed methods more fitting of a muggle physician; and like a true muggle physician would feel after that much exertion, she was exhausted. 

"Madam Pomfrey? Madam Pomfrey, what's wrong?" Severus asked as the nurse slumped against one of the cabinets. 

"Nothing," Poppy replied, "just get some rest. I've done all I can, and it is now up to your body to heal itself." 

With nary a gesture to betray his agony, Severus closed his eyes. Before being released from the Death Eater meeting, Voldemort had ordered him drink the notorious Interventio Interferus potion he had brewed earlier. The concoction corrupted its drinker's systemic response to magic, thereby preventing any healing by magical means, and rendering any magical potions ingested virtually poisonous. Even worse, it also inhibited the effects of any pain alleviating substance, magical or not, for at least six to seven days. Severus had to endure all the pain that came with resetting his bones, suturing incised or lacerated flesh, and dressing his wounds without even the mildest analgesic. By the time Poppy had finished, Severus had fainted not less than five times, and had regurgitated twice. 

Not wanting to risk using magic even externally, Poppy cleansed him manually using a washcloth, and nothing more than an emulsion of warm water, essential oils and antiseptic herbs. Normally, Severus would have protested, for he hated being so vulnerable. In the past, when Poppy had employed cleansing charms after healing him, Severus had always threatened to retaliate by casting sullying charms on her. Today, Severus only tried his best to ignore the nurse's ministrations. 

After helping Severus don pajamas, and tucking him into the bed adjacent to Harry Potter, Poppy sat on a nearby chair to observe them both for a while. 

Severus turned in Harry's direction, and concluded initially that the youth was asleep. Upon closer examination however, Severus saw that Harry's breaths were very shallow, and that his skin was abnormally pale; not what one would expect to see in a person who was merely asleep. Harry must have been unconscious. Little wonder, as the boy had nearly drowned on the previous day, and his family did not seem the least bit concerned. 

Momentarily, Professor Severus Snape entertained thoughts of retaliation against the Dursleys, by means of some strategically placed impotence inducer potions, or perhaps a shampoo that would make all three of them develop green stripes in their hair. Snape grinned evilly at the thought of installing faucets that dispensed water so hot that only a some one who normally lived in a magma chamber could appreciate it . 

Or survive it... 

Poppy's cold hand on his forehead broke into this contemplations. "You've got a terrible fever, Severus. You can expect to be confined to the hospital wing for at least ten days..." 

Snape turned to Madam Pomfrey with the same expression one might see on a person who had just been told that an asteroid made of waste from a space station was going to hit their home town. "...TEN DAYS!" he interrupted. "I will depart in no more than three." 

"You will do no such thing!" Madam Pomfrey ordered in an almost scolding tone, as she poured water into a goblet, then held it to Severus's lips. "Just hours ago, you were barely conscious! You've been hurt very badly, and you'll have to heal completely on your own without magic. I won't release you for ten days at the **VERY LEAST!**. You had better grow accustomed to staying here." 

Severus swallowed the water grudgingly, fighting off the urge to gag. "I would rather apparate to Antarctica wearing nothing but McGonagall's hat and Dumbledore's annoying pink bunny slippers!" 

"Why Severus, I had no idea you were such an exhibitionist!" Poppy retorted. "I'm sure the penguins will be clamouring for an encore after you succumb to hypothermia." 

"Well that would be preferable to staying under your care for the next ten days!" Severus attempted to be his normal rude self, but was too fatigued and weak from injury to sound very convincing. 

Poppy was about to tell him of the activities he would be limited to after the ten days, but merely pulled the blanket up to his chin when she saw that he had closed his eyes once again. Madam Pomfrey wondered if Dumbledore really did own pink bunny slippers, and if he did, how in the world did Severus know about them? Moreover, would Albus Dumbledore ever loan them out?

* * *

Harry Potter knew that he should leave the spiritual realm and return to his body... 

...his beaten, hyponatremic, broken, and starved body... 

It was as though his soul were splitting along the very seams of his cognizance. One part of him knew that he should return to his own time, but another wanted desperately to bombard his mother with questions, which had accumulated over sixteen years, and had compounded interest like a debt on a loan taken from a particularly tyrannical group of goblins. Yet another part of him wanted to follow Snape's mother, that humble, yet emotionally steadfast woman he had grown to admire, and accept as a grandmother. 

"Come along, dear wife," Harry's attention was drawn to the abnormally flat voice of Snape's father. His demeanor was equally flat as he clutched the woman's wrist. 

"Release me!" Mervidith Snape jerked her hand with such force that her estranged husband pitched forward, but stayed on his feet. "Lucien! Let me go! And do not refer to me as dear wife' until you can be one iota of the husband and father you used to be!" 

'used to be?" Harry questioned as he shielded his eyes, expecting the violent man to strike her. The Elder Snape remained unwavering, holding onto the glowing coal haired woman's wrist. There was something in the man's hand, and Harry realized too late that it was a portkey, as the two of them winked out of the scene. 

Harry did not have to think too hard to follow. The tranquil country scene around him changed to that of a mansion so dark it seemed that the flagstone walls themselves circulated a form of evil, inorganic blood. At first, Harry thought they had portkeyed back to the Snape family home, but this place was far more ominous. The walls were lit only by torches which seemed to burn with a faint green glow, as though their flame of origin was a St. Elmo's fire on a moonless night. 

There were people in the room, wearing the all too familiar black robes and white masks. Although Harry could not see any of their faces, he could feel their evil smiles bore into the chained figure on the floor. Some of them held out their wands, while others merely clenched their fists in anticipation of the night's festivities. 

Severus Snape raised his head and looked around. His range of motion was very limited, as the chains were wrapped from just below his shoulders to his waist, fixing his hands firmly behind his back. Another set of chains were coiled from his knees to ankles. Harry wondered why the Death Eaters did not employ a body bind charm, for it was far more efficient and easier to apply. Harry giggled, believing that some of the Death Eaters must be sporting bruises and black eyes behind their masks, courtesy of an incensed Snape's fists. 

Harry then realized with desolation, that Snape had been abducted upon returning from his mother's home in Alsace. Snape could not have been able to talk to Lily that night. 

"MUM!" shouted Severus, as Harry watched the Elder Snape drag Mervidith to a podium near the front of the room. Severus rolled onto his back, raised his legs into the air, and jumped to his feet in a whip like motion. He then began vaulting toward his parents. 

It became apparent as to why the Death Eaters had used chains, when a cloaked figure directly behind Severus grabbed the links, and used it to slam him onto the floor. Another death eater grabbed the links immediately above Severus's waist and dragged him backwards. 

"Good work, Lucien Snape." a very cold, but very human voiced praised. 

Harry almost did not recognize Voldemort. Even though he had seen him in the spelled diary during his second year at Hogwarts, Harry had not been expecting to see this version of the dark lord. The middle-aged Tom Riddle was almost handsome with his dark hair, and peach coloured skin. Almost handsome; the look of malevolence tainted his features in the extreme. 

Voldemort walked toward the bound boy on the floor and ordered Goyle Sr. and Crabbe Sr. to stand him up. "So, Severus Snape, your reputation precedes you. You are becoming quite the prodigy, arguably the best potion brewer in many generations." 

Goyle yanked on Snape's chains for effect. 

"You will be an exalted asset to the cause, even at your age, for you've already developed many new potions. Perhaps you can brew some that would be of great use to us." Voldemort drew his wand and pointed it at Mervidith. "Will you willingly take the mark, and accept all the responsibilities and rewards that comes from being one of us?" 

In horror, Severus said nothing. 

Voldemort took a step toward Mervidith. "CRUCIO!" 

Caught off-guard, Mervidith screamed and fell to the platform thrashing wildly. Harry wanted to turn away, but found he could not, and began to wonder if this was what came of curiosity. He had wondered what events led up to that scene in St. Mungos with a distraught Severus trying to get any type of response from his mother. As a consequence, his question would be answered in full. 

Voldemort ended the curse and turned back to Snape. The still-human authoritarian seemed to revel in the nineteen year-old's horror at watching his mother's torture. Before Severus could answer, Voldemort cast the curse again. To Harry's astonishment, Mervidith Snape did not utter a sound this time, and just lay face down on the platform. 

The Dark Lord looked confused, and wondered if he had cast the curse correctly. He raised his wand, quickly ended the spell, and waited until some of Mervidith Snape's involuntary jerking abated before casting the curse again. Save for the twitching and shuddering, Mervidith Snape seemed largely unaffected by the torture, and shocked murmuring resounded throughout the room. When Voldemort ended the curse a second time, he kicked the woman onto her back and reached for the hem of her gingham house dress. "Perhaps we should try a more conventional method of convincing disrespectful sons to comply." 

"Please," Mervidith wheezed, barely audible, "let me talk to Sevvi-Severus. I can reason with him." 

Believing that the frail woman was surely going to plead with her son to stop her torture and join the Death Eaters, Voldemort picked Mervidith up by the collar and threw her at her son. She landed some distance away from him, skidding the last few metres. Severus dropped to the floor next to her, as did Harry. 

"Don't join them, son!" Mervidith said, looking up from where she had landed on the marble floor. "No matter what they do to me, never take that mark!" 

"But mum," Severus gaped at the sight of blood trickling from his mother's mouth. She must have bit her tongue during the course of the torture. "They're hurting you..." 

"Son, I've gone through 21 hours of labour with you." Harry could tell Mervidith Snape was forcing the smile on her face, and was in the process of concocting a lie. "After that, the cruciatus curse is...is nothing by comparison." 

Harry thought that if childbirth as painful as Mervidith said, then all humans would either die off in the next hundred years or learn to be oviparous in all haste. People like Molly Weasley would be sent to the ward for people with masochistic tendencies at St Mungos. The expression on Snape's face said that he was thinking along those same lines. 

"Severus," Mervidith pleaded. "Do not join the Death Eaters." 

"But they'll kill you if I don't." 

"Dear...if you get take the mark, it will only mean the suffering and deaths of many more people." Mervidith reached a shaky hand to her son's. "Your father, the man you know as your father, he was a kind man before the mark was burned into his arm. I know you may not remember a time when he was otherwise, but he was a good man who loved us both." 

Severus Snape looked stunned. 

"It's true, my precious child. My family, the Rogues, cast me out when they learned I was pregnant. They didn't care that I was fifteen and scared, they just couldn't stand to see the House of Rogue disgraced by a bastard child." The older woman, who Harry noted did not look that much older than Snape, closed her eyes and clenched her teeth before continuing. "Your father, he was disowned by his own family. But he vowed to take care of me, and love you as if you were his own." 

Harry looked back at Lucien Snape, and realized that it was true. He looked nothing like his "son" Severus. It appeared that he had long white hair to Harry at first, but upon closer observation, Harry realized that his hair was actually the palest blonde. His eyes were the colour of a frozen polar sea. In fact, Lucien looked very much like Lucius Malfoy would if he were bitter and violent, rather than bitter and haughty. Lucien must have been descended from the Malfoy family. 

Mervidith quivered before answering. "Yes. He did not father you. But he knew what it was like to have a father that wouldn't claim him, and he was determined that you wouldn't suffer the life of a bastard child." 

"Then who was..?" 

"I had hoped I'd never have to tell you. It is one of the most painful things I'd ever had to live with." She turned away as she continued. "Before the Knights of Walpurgis became established, there were many gangs of pure blooded wizards who hated half-bloods, muggles and muggle-borns. At first, I thought that my pure blood would keep me safe, but I was gravely mistaken. One day, as I was at a slumber party at my muggleborn friend's home, a group of those prejudiced wizards attacked. Although I knew that I was not allowed to use magic outside of Hogwarts, I had no other means to fight those wizards off. I was proficient at duelling so I fought back..." Tears appeared at the corner of Mervidith's eyes. "But there were too many of them, and I quickly became exhausted. When all my magic was spent, they...they hurt me," her voice trailed off. 

"Not even my own parents believed me when I told them what happened." Mervidith forced her self to go on. "So I was pregnant with you, and expelled from Hogwarts for using magic outside of school..." 

"But you had just cause!" both Severus and the spirit Harry said at the same time. 

Voldemort, who expected Severus to be grovelling to join the Death Eaters by now, moved in closer to hear what passed between the dark-haired mother and son. Severus, thinking quickly, said loudly: "So if I join the Death Eaters, you'd be most proud of me?" 

"Yes son, I think after you join, you can invent some Chromavomit potion. After all, if you're going to curse the muggles into vomiting, it would be much more effective if you should make them do it in shocking colours. Some pine green vomit will scare them incurably. Then again, I had this wonderful idea about a potion that would disrupt one's small intestines..." 

Voldemort seemed to decide that Mervidith was making progress with her wayward son, and moved on to other matters with the death eaters. When Voldemort began talking about the curses they should employ on an upcoming raid, Mervidith went on. "The Ministry of Magic refused to hear my case, since they determined that I hadn't been hurt as badly as some of the gang's other victims had. So they snapped my wand and expelled me from Hogwarts." 

Every vestige of color vanished from Severus's face. Harry absently put a hand on his shoulder. He could not imagine what being a child of rape must be like. 

"I was ready to end my life at that point, but then the beautiful boy with eyes like the night sky appeared, and I knew I'd have to find a way to live. My friend Lucien, your adopted father, was there for me always. Because I had been denied the Rogue name, and Lucien had been disowned by the Malfoys some years before, we searched our family trees and found a common ancestor. Severitus Snape, the famed potion master, was the ancestor we shared, but the Snape line died with her. We reclaimed the name as our own, and we showed our families that we didn't need to walk their paths, for we paved our own. We have the Snape blood in our veins. The three of us, and surely the little green-eyed angel soon to be born, bear both the talent and curse of being adept at potions. The name is our true birthright." 

Harry swallowed hard, he was certainly not 'adept at potions...?' Or was he only mediocre at them because he did not like his teacher? No, there must be some mistake, Harry wasn't be a Snape, he couldn't be, he looked like James Potter, then again... why did Mervidith Snape feel so much like his Grandmother? 

Harry forced himself to pay attention once more. "You never knew the Lucien Snape that I knew, you were much too young to remember him," Mervidith lamented. "I believe he was blackmailed into joining the Death Eaters when you were in your second year of life. He went missing for almost two weeks, and when he returned from the Death Eater meeting, he would divulge nothing that had happened to him. When I insisted that he tell me, he beat me for the first time. That was when he became ever more violent with each passing year. 

"Why did you stay with him?" Both Severus and Harry asked in unison. 

"Because I had hope," the woman now looked many times her age, and very weary. "I hoped he would one day return to being the Lucien I had grown up with. I hoped that he would be the father to you that he was in the beginning. Do you know, Sevvie, that throughout the 21 hours of labour it took to bring you into this world, Lucien never left my side? He even helped the mediwitch and midwife deliver you. After that, he could barely leave your side, even going so far as to have a special carrier made so that you could be fastened to his back as he worked in the labs potions." 

"Why does he seem to hate me?" Severus grated out. "He never allowed me in his labs!" 

"He doesn't hate you, and up until he took the mark, he was proud of your interest in potions. After he joined the Death Eaters, I believe that your father feared you would become too proficient, thereby drawing the Dark Lord's attentions. You would suffer as he did." Mervidith turned to Harry, then back to Severus. "If you truly love Lily Evans, and want to bring that green-eyed angel boy into the world, refuse that mark! The little angel and Lily do not deserve to be unhappy even for a moment, and they surely do not deserve to suffer the fear of living with a Death Eater father or husband." 

"But if the Cruciatus curse is applied for too long, you'll go insane!" Severus stopped, he could barely say the rest. "You could die." 

"Sevvie, I've lived my life..." 

"You're only thirty-five..." 

"Dearest Sevvie, you've brought me enough joy over the past nineteen years to last several lifetimes. When you took me from the family home, you gave me a rich life, and there was not a moment of that life that was not full of the purest elation. Please, let me attempt repay you in kind." Mervidith said, holding Severus's hand in her trembling one. 

"Well, Severus Snape, do not keep us waiting!" Voldemort's attention returned to them. "Will you willingly take the mark?" 

Severus shook his head. 

"I thought your mother was going to reason with you. You may be a brilliant potion master, but evidently there are some matters you can truly be a fool in!" Voldemort pointed his wand at the flaming-coal haired woman. "Crucio!" 

The curses came in quick succession, and lasted longer each time Severus refused to take the mark. After twelve minutes, Mervidith could no longer refrain from screaming in agony, and began to lose control of her bodily functions after fourteen minutes. 

"STOP!" screamed Severus at last. 

Voldemort pulled back his wand. "You wish to say something young, black snake?" 

"Sevvie...no!" Mervidith choked out. 

"I-I'll pledge loyalty..." Snape muttered. 

"I'm afraid I did not hear you." Voldemort raised his wand again. "CRUCIO!" 

"I PLEDGE LOYALTY TO YOU LORD VOLDEMORT!" Snape bellowed, the volume of his voice rivalling that of his mother's agonized shrieks. One of the senior Death Eaters stepped forward and led Snape through the Death Eater Oath in its entirety. Voldemort did not lift the curse from Mervidith Snape until Severus had uttered the last syllable. 

Harry was stunned at what he had witnessed. He had never seen the Cruciatus applied so long and could barely endure seeing the curse's aftermath. Mervidith Snape turned to Harry one last time, her whole body convulsing. "Green-eyed a-ngel, I-I'm sorry that we-we'll not w-walk this Earth t-together... b-but grandmum will l-love you always." With that, Mervidith Snape lay motionless on the floor, tears streaming from beneath her dark lashes. Severus made to go to her, but was dragged out of the room. 

Lucien Snape did not follow the other Death Eaters. He knelt over his wife's body and began trying to revive her. Lucien tilted her head back and attempted to pour some potions into her mouth, but the liquids merely trickled out; the cruciatus curse had inhibited her ability to swallow properly. If Harry hadn't been staring, he would not have noticed the tears flowing from the man's icy blue eyes.

* * *

"Has there been any improvement in his condition?" Headmaster Albus Dumbledore asked quietly as he walked into the school nurse's office. 

Nurse Poppy Pomfrey looked up from the reports she was writing. "Whose?" 

"Either of them." Dumbledore replied, glancing back toward the main area of the ward. His eyes resting first on Harry Potter, who would have appeared dead were it not for his chest rising and falling shallowly; and then on Professor Severus Snape, whose face was contorted with pain even though he appeared to be asleep. 

Rubbing her faintly lined forehead, Poppy exhaled. "Neither one of them is doing very well. Professor Snape, while stable, has a rough time ahead of him. He was forced to drink the Interventio Interferus potion after those animals stoutly beat him." 

"Interventio Interferus?" 

Poppy looked as though she could barely contain her rage. "If it weren't such a new concoction, I would swear it was invented by medieval inquisitors!" 

"It is a pain causing potion?" The twinkle in Dumbledore's eyes was completely absent. 

"No nothing like that. It's worse..." Poppy said, frowning. "It prevents healing by magical means, allowing the torturer to do anything short of killing the victim! The poor soul will then have to heal entirely on his or her own. If we try to use any healing spells or charms on Professor Snape now, in a best case scenario, it would only cause him excruciating pain." Her expression darkened, "In the worst instance, any magic used to heal him, including any potions, can react on a cellular level with the magic in his body and use it to inflict even more damage. There haven't been many studies on this potion yet, but patients have literally been ripped open by their own magic when the mediwitches or mediwizards tried to employ healing charms." 

Professor Dumbledore's face went so pale that his skin matched his beard and hair almost perfectly. 

"The potion's effects should begin wearing off in about a week or two and I can begin giving Professor Snape some non-magial healing elixirs and analgesic potions then. I dare not use any spells on him for about three weeks though, and he should be extremely careful that no one casts any spells on him until the potion has completely worked its way out of his body." Poppy's face paled with apprehension. "With even a trace of the potion still present, even the simplest hex could cause massive internal haemorrhaging, or even death. " 

Dumbledore recoiled at that. Over the years, Severus Snape had become far more than a valued employee and spy for the Order of the Phoenix. Memories of the troubled youth flooded the older man's mind. Those first days where the boy had been sent to his office to be disciplined for cursing his peers. Young Severus looked at him with those frightened obsidian eyes, as though he expected Headmaster Dumbledore to beat him. Albus remembered the disbelief on the little boy's face when he patiently explained that while his actions could not be condoned, it did not warrant corporal punishment. Albus could not recall a student, before or since that time, who seemed to enjoy scrubbing caldrons, polishing trophies or mopping corridors as much as little Severus Snape did. Severus practically thanked him the first time he had been disciplined in that way, and the youth remained dutiful to the Headmaster ever since. 

Madam Pomfrey continued to explain all the effects of the Interventio Interferus despite the distant look in the headmaster's eyes. She knew that somehow, his mind always managed to take in any information given to him, even if he appeared to not give his full attention to it. He did not disappoint this time. "So there is nothing you can do for him? Not even for his pain at least?" 

"Very little, Headmaster." Poppy said. "I've even consulted colleagues in the muggle world to see if there were some treatments there that might be able to help with the pain, and some of them owled samples they got from their Pharm-a-soo-ti-kal companies." 

"Muggle drugs?" Dumbledore asked, his eyes brightening. 

"Yes, Muggle-produced drugs are about the safest option available to Severus at this time." Poppy replied, motioning to the large oval pills in a dark bottle on her desk. "Severus had the most difficult time swallowing the pill. At first, Severus started hacking and choking, so I thought it was the Interventio Interferus potion reacting to the muggle drug, but Severus told me it felt like the drug went down sideways and lodged in his esophagus." 

"Why don't muggles take their potions in liquid form?" Albus Dumbledore thought out loud as he noted the size of the pills, and their elongated shape. 

"Maybe so it doesn't spill from these flimsy dark bottles? Look at this cover! If you were to invert it, the potion would leak out." Poppy said, shuddering at the difficulty she had prying the "child proof" cap off of it. Apparently it was "wizard proof" to some extent as well. "I am not sure it helped with his pain, but he went to sleep within thirty minutes of taking it and couldn't tell me. We can only hope." 

Poppy went on, motioning to another dark bottle which looked remarkably like the first, "There are also these muggle things called ant-ti-bi-o-tiks. From what I've read in the muggle books, these can help keep Professor Snape's wounds from becoming infected, since we can't use the potions that would normally do that." 

Severus groaned in his fitful sleep. He rolled onto his side, cringed, then returned to laying supine, his hands coming to rest on his lower abdominal region. Thanks to Crabbe Sr. and Goyle Sr, those injuries would cause him great pain and nausea until he healed more. Only time could achieve that end. Poppy cringed as she remembered how hard it had been to suture that area without the help of pain reducing potions. The potions master, wanting to retain some illusion of his bravado, covertly stuffed a cloth into his mouth to keep from vocalising. Poppy hadn't noticed, until she asked him a question, and he had to withdraw the cloth to answer. Severus had been in tears when she finally applied the cold packs, and all but passed out when she applied the supportive bandaging. 

"As for Harry, his injuries are coming along really nicely as there was nothing to prevent him from being healed." Pomfrey stated. 

"Why is he still unconscious?"Albus asked. 

"That is something I cannot explain, Headmaster." Poppy said, slumping her shoulders. "It's not exhaustion, because he'd at least show normal sleep patterns. He may have nearly drowned, but he has almost fully recovered from that. His injuries, while considerable, aren't enough to force him to remain unconscious. And though he's slightly malnourished, I managed to get him to swallow a nutrient replacer potion, so he's by no means starving. Not even the enervate spell has had any effect. " 

Dumbledore removed his half-moon spectacles, and rubbed his nose and brow. 

"I'm sorry Headmaster, I really don't know what to tell you." Poppy dropped her quill onto the desk. "We'll just have to wait until he wakes up on his own." 

"Poppy?" 

"Yes?" 

"Is it possible, that Harry may not WANT to awaken? At least not for the time being?" The Headmaster asked gravely. 

Nurse Pomfrey gave no reply and just looked at the headmaster with an uncharacteristically blank expression. 

The Headmaster nodded to Poppy and walked out to the main ward, and stopped between Severus's and Harry's beds. Albus looked from one to the other, watching their chests rise and fall as they slumbered. "There is still great animosity between the two of you." 

Severus shifted painfully again, and for a moment, it seemed to be his way of saying. "Of course there is!" But he apparently had not awakened. 

"It was my wish that one day you both would have learned to put your differences aside." The Headmaster said as he put his left hand on Harry's forehead and his right on Severus's. "Severus, though you are an excellent occlumens, that was not the reason I chose you to teach Harry. I had hoped that while you may have only seen each other's differences, that you would also learn that you had much in common. Both of you have had more than your fair share of pain in your short lives." The Headmaster paused to dab at a tears that rolled into his white beard as he recalled the many events these younger men had endured in silence. 

"I had hoped, and still do hope, that you might one day rise above those differences, and work cooperatively instead of competitively, for neither of you can stand up to Voldemort's forces alone." Albus turned to Harry. "Although the prophecy indicated that you have the power to vanquish the Dark Lord, Harry, Voldemort has many powerful allies... You will need your own, equally powerful, allies." And he motioned to Severus. 

Harry's expression remained unchanged. Severus however, unnoticed by the aged headmaster, opened his eyes slightly and looked in Harry's direction. "What is that faint glow around his scar?" he wondered. He felt Albus brush some of his hair out of his face and tuck a raven lock behind his ear. For a while, he felt the warmth of the man's gaze upon him, so he willed his face to feign sleep as best he could. Severus knew from experience that fooling the older wizard was a difficult, if not impossible undertaking, but he attempted to appear asleep nonetheless. 

The sound of the infirmary door opening softly drew Albus's attention from younger men. Remus Lupin, who still looked exhausted from his recent transformation, motioned the Headmaster to follow him. With a heavy heart, Albus left the room. 

Severus opened his eyes fully, and gazed upon Potter's tranquil face. Just a week ago, he would probably have glowered at the boy, and balked at being placed in the bed next to his. He knew that Poppy only placed them there because those were the beds closest to the entrance to her quarters and her office, but he still would have made his displeasure known. For some reason, he could not find it in himself to resent the boy anymore. 

Despite all the horrors Severus had witnessed throughout his life, the sight of Harry Potter laying motionless beneath the bath water had been unnerving. And why had he suddenly remembered a similar event from his own childhood shortly before he found Potter? Could it have been a premonition which helped dredge up the memory? Had Potter, desperate for help, used his magic and unknowingly cast a legilimens on him? 

Had Potter witnessed that memory even as his lungs filled with fluid? How much had Potter seen? Had Potter seen his father slapping him, and threatening him with that accursed belt? Had Harry seen his father forcing him into the tub of hot water? Had Harry seen him cry? 

Severus squeezed his eyes tightly, but that action did little to force the images back into the dark corners he had forced them to reside all those years ago. Instead, the images burned with a new intensity. He could once again smell the faint scent of soap from the bath, hear the sound of the tub filling, and feel his face stinging from his father's firm palm. 

Using everything in his occlumency arsenal, he cast those memories back which such force, that it left him feeling dazed. He sighed, hoping that Potter would remember nothing, if he had seen that memory at all. With any luck, Harry would remember nothing from that day. With still more luck, the boy might not even recall what he had seen in the pensieve months earlier as well. 

If Dumbledore ever ordered him to give Occlumency lessons to Potter again, he would be sure to fill his mind with "more suitable" thoughts. If Potter was indeed powerful enough to cast a legilimens involuntarily, then surely he'd be capable of breaking into his mind again whilst fully conscious. 

Severus wondered how eager Potter would be to reverse a legilimens again, if he were treated to images of gutting blast ended skrewts for potions? How fast would Potter retreat from his mind if Severus were to show him images from his time at the University studying for his potions master degree? Surely images of the infestations of the Magical Equivalent of the human botfly and its cure would send Potter retreating? Or perhaps advanced potions for treating charmed and venomous ascarids would do it? Once Potter had his fill of those images, Snape was sure he'd never want to look into his mind again. 

After a while of musing, and making himself sufficiently queasy in the process, Severus began to feel sleepy. As much as he longed for better scenery than the son of an old school mate he could barely tolerate, he did not want to risk causing himself unnecessary pain by shifting positions. He drowsily remained facing in Harry's direction. Without those overlarge and thick glasses on, he looked less and less like James and more like...like... As he continued to gaze at the boy, he thought with some fondness that the boy had Lily's delicate cheekbones, and her lovely green eyes behind those long lashed lids. Long dark lashes. Severus recalled that while James had dark lashes, but they were sparse and short, and while Lily had long eyelashes, they were pale and red. Harry's traits were a nice combination of the two, making him look almost...angelic... 

Snape bolted upright, and received sharp waves of pain from his injuries. He bit back any expletives he longed to shout and clutched his aching side. Severus guardedly lay back down after several minutes, and berated himself for even thinking on this boy as he turned away from him. His battered side reverberated with deep throbbing pain, but Severus ignored it, though it was difficult to do so. What was he doing comparing Potter to an angel..? A devil would be a more accurate comparison, after all, the boy made his life a hell; and he was miserable enough to want to escape to hell if it meant avoiding Harry Potter altogether. 

Then again, Severus thought as his eyes snapped open once more... 

Potter did have Lily's eyes. Lily's beautiful, loving eyes, green like the first leaves of spring. Severus once again berated himself for thinking on things like these, and was still scolding himself when he eventually fell asleep. 

Harry continued to lay motionless in the next bed. His scar's glow brightened inexorably, the colour becoming a brilliant cerulean.

* * *

The Death Eaters dragged Snape into a stifling room with a large furnace in the middle of it. Harry guessed it was how the large mansion was heated during the coldest months of winter, when the fireplaces would not suffice. The temperature of the room was unbearable in the strangely mild weather of early November 1979. 

The masked escorts threw Severus Snape next to a stone slab which looked more like it belonged in a smelter's workshop than in a mansion. One of the masked figures roughly pulled Snape's sleeve up to his shoulder and chained his arm to the stone slab. 

"Now my, snake." Voldemort said as he donned heavy gloves and pulled a branding iron from a rack near the furnace. The end, with the familiar shape of a skull with a serpent emerging from it, glowed almost white with the heat. "You shall be one of us." 

Harry closed his eyes as Voldemort thrust the burning iron upon Snape's forearm. 

Severus screamed. 

End Part Five 


	6. Broken Boy, Broken Man

**Remembrance and Renewal** by** Nigel Tatsuya** and ** Avatar Arkmage**   
Chapter Six: ** Broken Boy, Broken Man**

It is a commonly held belief that disembodied spirits could potentially cause the ambient temperature of a room to drop; that they themselves were the very quintessence of cold. Throughout the world, both muggle and magical, cold spots in the corridors of dimly lit mansions, icy breezes in deserted cemeteries, and unexplained frost developing on mirrors and windows in otherwise warm places of residences, were often attributed to unseen entities, whether benign or malevolent. 

Severus, who was still kneeling at the smelter's block, shuddered fiercely; a result of both the pain, and the sudden cold that came over him as Harry floated nearer. 

The smell of charred flesh made Harry feel sick. He wondered how that was possible, being that spirits did not have bodies with which to feel sick. "Prof-" Harry stopped himself. "Snape!" 

The teenaged Severus looked in Harry's direction, his face a mixture of agony and curiosity. He thought for a moment that he saw the apparition of a concerned being with eyes not too like Lily Evans's, and wondered if it was the preborn spirit his mother had told him of. 

"We're not quite finished yet, Black Snake." Voldemort said, drawing his wand and reciting a spell over the seared flesh of Severus's arm. The mark glowed green momentarily, then burst fully into green flames. 

Snape cried out again, and writhed against his bindings. The coarse chains cut into Snape's pale flesh, causing great gouts of scarlet blood to run down the slab. 

Voldemort tutted. "Oh no, that simply will not do," and with that, he retrieved an iron poker from the fire and held it against a few of Severus's deepest cuts, effectively cauterising them. 

Unable to tolerate another moment, Harry wished he were away. 

"Harry?" Lily whispered to her shivering son a heartbeat's time later. He had reappeared amid the tranquil whiteness of the spiritual plane. 

After several attempts at speaking, but only achieving incomprehensible babbling, Harry threw his arms around his mother's neck and held her. A stream of comforting, though not physical, warmth permeated his form; as though he were being defrosted from the very images which had chilled his soul. 

"Are you cold, HARRY?" Sirius asked, noting Harry's quivering. 

"You look as though you've been encased in a glacier frozen since before mammals gained sentience, son!" James remarked, genuinely worried. 

Harry merely recalled what he had seen happen to Snape in his thoughts, and James and Sirius winced. 

"That is only to be expected," James shrugged, "he put himself in that situation, after all!" 

"Snarky, git." Sirius scoffed. "Smart enough to sit twelve N.E.W.T.s, but too stupid to keep himself out of trouble when it really matters." 

"No, you don't understand..." Harry finished with only his recollections of what had transpired before that horrid scene at the smelter's block, and James and Sirius fell silent. 

The question that burned in Harry's mind earlier, flared past the firebreak of his consciousness, and into Lily's mind. He had to know if James Potter was truly his father. One part of him shouted that there could be no question as to his paternity, for James looked like Harry would in a mirror capable of marginal distortions. Virtually anyone who had known James, commented on either Harry's physical resemblance to James or the similarities in their characters. 

Then again, according to what Harry had witnessed in Snape's Pensieve, Lily cared nothing for James nor his antics, at least not in that time. Could love truly develop from a foundation of such vehement discord? Furthermore, Harry felt a connection growing inside him for his once despised potions master, and the woman he felt with every fibre of his existence was his grandmother. 

Harry felt a hand on his back, and then another on his shoulders. He turned slowly, and was comforted once again by the forms of Sirius Black and James Potter. 

"Harry," James began, pulling Harry into a firm hug, "one of the first things I want you to know, is there is far more to being a parent than blood. I did not realize it in life to the extent that I do now. But freed from the flesh, you are as much my son, as you are the gi-Severus Snape's son ." 

Harry squeezed his eyes closed. It was true then. His biological father was Severus Snape. 

"In life, although I knew Severus had fathered you, I came to love you." James released Harry from the hug, but kept a hand reassuringly on his shoulder. "I could not help but love you. You were so adorable, beautiful to look at, and your eyes held none of the anger..." his voice grew more subdued. "...or emptiness I had seen in Snape's eyes." 

Sirius clenched his teeth together, as though his very words grated at him. "Oh...We both couldn't see in life what we can understand now. When we first met Severus, we saw him as a disgrace to pureblooded wizards. Even though he was just as pureblooded as us, he looked like some cross between a muggle trying to look like a wizard on Halloween, and a lovesick vagrant. Snivellus wore the most cast-offish looking robes, which fit him about as well as Hagrid's clothing would you. And he probably used a trowel to apply pomade to his hair." 

"He did not!" shouted Lily, pushing Sirius firmly, causing him to lose his balance and fall flat on the whiteness beneath them. 

"Okay okay, so he didn't use a trowel," Sirius said, resuming his position without using his hands for purchase. "But there was enough grease in his hair to lubricate all the belt sanders in the U.K. and..." 

"Padfoot!" James scolded, barely stifling his own laughter. "Anyway, what we're trying to say is that Severus Snape was not an easy person to like, but in retrospect, I wish we had done things differently. From that first day when we met him on the Hogwarts express, we just couldn't stand him with that ragged appearance, and that infernal way he carried on. Sure, we were all going to miss our folks, but we didn't bawl ourselves blind like he was doing. He cried like a little girl. It was disgraceful! All the time, just sniffle, sniffle, and sniffle. If we so much as spilt a bottle of ink on his parchments..." 

Lily smacked her husband between the shoulder blades. "James, you did not just spill ink on his parchments!" 

"Right," James continued sheepishly, "we kicked him around a bit before pouring ink on his essays. He fought back with his thrice-cursed dark arts hexes though, but he was too busy snivelling to take us all. We called him Snivellus within an hour of meeting him though, because he was crying like a little girl all the way to Hogwarts." 

From what Harry had seen of Snape's childhood, he suspected that the boy was crying because he feared for his mother. Leaving one's mother alone with an abusive lout, was not too different from sentencing her to death. Over the years, Severus had probably learned to direct at least some of his father's violence onto himself to save his mother being from being killed. Was it possible that Severus was so distraught because he was thinking just that, or might he have been in pain from a beating he received shortly before boarding the Hogwarts express? 

"It was well known that Snape's folks weren't poor people, so when we saw him with only a corned beef sandwich for lunch that day, we teased him about it," admitted James. 

"And kicked him in the backside..." Sirius continued. 

Harry felt a pang deep within the region of his sternum. James and Sirius could very well be describing Ronald Weasley. On their first trip to Hogwarts, Ron had only a corned beef sandwich for lunch, and was clad in secondhand robes. 

What if it had been James and Sirius who had shared the car with Ron Weasley? Would Ron have become more like Snape had Harry shunned him, and befriended a wealthier wizard like Draco Malfoy? True, Ron did not have to spend his days afraid of his own father, and watching his mother taking the brunt of the man's wrath, but would he torment Ron, along with Draco and his goons, the way James and the Marauders had tormented Severus? 

Perhaps not like James, he cautioned himself, he knew he could never initiate the cruelty he saw James enact in the Pensieve. He would never seek to humiliate anyone that way, even in thought. Harry understood exactly how it felt to be humiliated and injured, courtesy of his cousin Dudley. 

A shiver ran through his backbone, as he wondered if he would have taken the role more like the one he had seen Remus Lupin assume. Would he have stood idly by, and watched Draco, Crabbe and Goyle humiliate Ron in a similar fashion? Surely the condition of Ron Weasley's third or fourth-hand underclothes would have been similar, or even worse than Snape's, as he too, had to make due with far less than the more wealthier wizards did. 

"No!" he spoke inwardly. "I am not like that. I would have helped Ron, even if he were not my best friend. Even if we were enemies. No one deserves that kind of treatment. No one!" 

"I'm not proud of what we did that day." James said, lowering his head. "I had hoped you would not have found out about that. The fact that Snivelly..uh..Severus placed that memory in the Pensieve at all..." 

Harry did not hear the rest, and had not realized that he had asked the question, but he soon found himself standing once again on Hogwart's grounds on that fateful early summer's day. Lily Evans was headed towards Harry so rapidly, that he had no time to react as she walked right through him. He turned at the sound of loud whooping and cheers, and saw that James Potter had indeed removed the inverted Severus Snape's greying undergarments. Sirius gleefully relieved him of it, and levitated it to one of the castle's spires, where it hung like a pennant one might see at a convention for particularly zealous underwear manufacturers. 

Although most carried on as though it were a colossal satire, some of the crowd had stopped cheering and were now gawking. Harry noticed the thin pink, and silvery signatures of scars all along Snape's back, exposed backside and thighs. It was obvious that he had attempted to cover them with a series of charms, but his current emotional state caused his tenuous hold to waver, and more scars appeared steadily like elongated stars against a pale sky. 

"I guess it's not true what they say about blokes with large noses." Sirius commented, not wanting to lose face, although Harry could tell that even he was astonished to see the extent of Severus's scars. 

"False advertisement indeed!" James said with humourless cadence. Harry knew that any boy in the vicinity, the Marauders included, understood that it wasn't that Snape was small, but merely that he had started puberty later than most of his peers. The sparse growth of hair, or near lack thereof, probably indicated that fact to the watching girls as well. From first-hand experience, Harry knew that malnourishment and prolonged abuse in the home, could cause a failure to thrive, and delays in their development. 

Peter Pettigrew joined in the teasing, but Harry heard nothing, and prayed that Snape would be released from this degrading ordeal soon. Lupin acted as though there were nothing more interesting than a game of exploding snap occurring, and continued reading his book. 

Lily stomped back into Harry's field of vision, and blasted James, Sirius and Peter with a spell Harry had never experienced before. Whatever it was, it sent the three boys sailing like quaffles across the grounds. Lily angrily ended the spell, allowing James, Sirius and Peter to fall into the lake. "Perhaps it's you who should shag the giant squid!" Lily yelled. 

The crowd, not wanting to be the next target of Lily Evans's wrath, dispersed rapidly. 

The girl with the gleaming red hair turned Severus upright, and ended the spell on him. Lily gently lowered him to the ground, and knelt beside him as he collapsed onto the grass, leaning on her for support. Harry could not remember ever seeing his future potions master with such rounded shoulders, and his head bowed so low that his curtain of lank, black hair obscured his face completely. Lily Evans put a comforting hand on his shoulder, and though Severus did not pull away, he did not meet her gaze either. Harry understood exactly why, when a soft whimper escaped the young Severus. Lily placed a hand on his back, attempting to comfort him, but he stood rapidly and ran toward the Forbidden forest. 

Lily cast a last, corrosive look at the three boys crawling out of the lake, before pursuing Severus into the trees. Even she was not entirely against breaking the school's rules.

* * *

The scene faded to white once more, and Harry found himself amid his parents and godfather. For a long time, no one could speak, merely exchanging feelings of embarrassment, contrition, sorrow, shock, regret, anger, and grief. Harry found it strange how easily those feelings were to express when one was not encumbered by the boundaries of the flesh, and he could feel the emotions spilling into him from the three adults. 

Harry began to wonder again about his parentage, and why Professor Snape seemed to not know that he was Harry's father. As though in reply, his parents and godfather faded, and Harry once again found himself at another point in the world's timeline. 

From the stately looking buildings, uniformed witches and wizards milling about the darkened grounds, professors demonstrating spells in the courtyard, and trees planted with almost surgical precision, Harry deduced that he was on the campus of a Magical University. On one of the paved walkways, outside what appeared to be a giant science building, was Lily Evans. The girl, who would someday give birth to Harry, was wearing a horribly faded coat so oversized, that Harry would have thought she had received one of the Dudley's hand-me-downs if this hadn't been an earlier time. Lily paced to and fro, her boots making soft clunks on the pavement. She appeared to be waiting for someone. 

"I usually spent time with Severus after he finished his work in the laboratory each night." The spirit Lily, who had followed Harry into this time, stated as though reading his thoughts. "We'd usually make it to the cafeteria moments before they closed for the night. The nice elves would let us take home leftovers though." 

Harry watched in wonder, as Lily's coat slipped off her shoulders repeatedly. Each time, she would make a futile attempt at adjusting it, only to have it slip off of her shoulders again. "Petunia sent that to me for Christmas one year." The spirit Lily offered.. "I knew she got it at a secondhand store, and I was going to discretely throw it away, but Severus knew what I was planning to do. He pulled my right arm into one of the sleeves and pulled the other sleeve over his own arm and zipped us both up in the coat. 

Harry giggled at the thought of Snape being in the same article of clothing with his mother, when the spirit Lily touched Harry's forehead and showed him the image of Severus and Lily walking together in the coat. He thought that two people in a coat would appear like a bizarre two-headed monster, but he saw it was not the case. Although Severus was much taller than Lily, he crouched within the coat so that Lily would not have to stand on her toes. Their hair, which was roughly the same length, intermingled, forming a lovely cascade of red and black down their backs. 

The scene changed once more. This time, Harry saw Lily and Severus seated on a sofa, still wearing the oversized coat. They were apparently watching the telly, they must have been at Lily's house. While engrossed in the program, Lily managed to feed them both potato crisps, and a chocolate bar with her right hand; Severus in return, gave both of them sips of tea and crumpets with his left. Nothing was spilled. 

Harry could not help but wonder what had gone wrong. They looked so perfect together, that Harry thought he must have dropped into an alternate universe or something. He wondered if his father... Father? When did Harry start thinking of Snape that way...? 

Harry saw flashes of images, as though he were running through time instead of neatly jumping onto points of it. He next saw Severus, with a huge bandage on his left forearm, hurriedly making potions in a darkened laboratory. On the other side of the large room, also fabricating potions, was a pale haired man wearing a white frock coat. Lucien Snape. Voldemort must have wasted no time in putting father and son to work after Severus had accepted the mark. 

There couldn't have been two people, who reminded Harry of the difference between night and day, more than Severus Snape, and his father Lucien Snape. They especially looked it from Harry's vantage point near the ceiling of the room. 

When Harry saw that the clock on the wall read 4:00am, he assumed that Severus had not met with his mother that day. Severus and Lucien Snape continued working until well into the afternoon of the next day, and it was only then that Harry heard bits and pieces of their conversation. 

"You just had to show off in potions didn't you?" Lucien hissed. Without warning, he walked over to his son, and shoved him into a nearby shelf, knocking its reagent bottles all over the floor. 

"Jealous, father?" Snape asked, still standing. 

"No you, imbecile!" The Elder Snape shouted, taking hold of Severus's shoulders and shaking him fiercely. "I wanted you to be as invisible to the Dark Lord as possible! I know you didn't want to join! I didn't want you to join! I wanted to keep you and your mother as far away from the Dark Lord you could be! You're too stupid to know what's right for you!" 

"Then why have you brought mother here? And why did you assist in my capture?" 

"I was under the imperious curse tonight, you dunderhead!" Were the situation not so grave, Harry would have found Snape being referred to as 'dunderhead' incredibly funny; it was the very endearment Professor Snape would later use on his first year potion students. "Now you'll live a cursed life until you die!" 

"As though my life weren't a cursed one before." Severus rounded. 

Lucien made to strike his son again, but exhaled deeply and returned to his work . 

Several hours later, after they finished decanting the potions, Lucien Snape literally kicked Severus out of the lab. The dark haired youth staggered into the hallway, and collided with the wall, where the Dark Lord brushed him off and excused him from the mansion. 

"You have a most talented son, Snape." Voldemort said, entering the lab and perusing the fully restocked shelves. 

Lucien merely nodded, and began spelling the area clean. 

The Dark Lord moved closer to Lucien, and whispered his next orders. "I want you to ready an eight hour supply of the Animalia Potion for about ten death eaters." 

Lucien started shivering, and looked stunned at the request. 

"Your son defied me yesterday, and must be dealt with firmly." The Dark Lord sauntered toward a rack holding dozens of vials filled with a substance the colour and consistency of clotting blood. "I am also in need of entertainment." 

"NO!" Lucien turned on the Dark Lord "You can't! You'll not use this potion against Sevvi-Severus!" 

"What was that?" Voldemort queried, drawing his wand threateningly. "You dare tell me what I may or may not do with what rightfully belongs to me, White Snake?" 

"Master, I'll not otherwise disobey you. I have not, in many a year. But do not ask this of me!" Lucien hissed, his cheeks twitching involuntarily, and his ice-coloured eyes unfocussed. 

"Ready the potion, Lucien!" Voldemort ordered. "I will depart in five minutes." 

"You used that potion against me all those years ago!" shouted Lucien Snape, the fear etched deeply in his features. "I nearly died! I've been mentally unstable ever since! And now you ask me to condone its use against my own son?" 

"Your son will still be able to perform his duties to me. After all, your gifts in potions were unaffected..." 

Lucien fell to the floor and began twitching violently, his facial muscles completely out of his control. At first, Harry believed Voldemort had cast a spell on the Elder Snape, but The Dark Lord appeared equally surprised by Lucien's unexpected convulsive motions. 

As quickly as it had began, the seizure ended, and Lucien shakily stood once more. "But everything else in my life was affected!" 

"The Animalia. NOW!" Voldermort pointed his wand at Lucien's nose. 

Lucien Snape ducked quickly behind the safety of one of the shelves, grabbed the first rack of the red vials and threw them against the floor; sending shards of glass, and the red liquid in all directions. "I couldn't tell Mervidith what was done to me..." 

CRASH! Another rack of vials were destroyed. 

"Killing me would have been kinder! To everyone! But you're a coward, nothing but an opportunistic coward! You kept me alive because you needed a potions master...no you needed **a SLAVE** who could brew any potion you wanted! You could certainly not kill me then!" 

The very human Voldemort lunged at the pale man, but Lucien evaded him, smashing another rack of phials in the process. "After you and the other Knights of Walpurgis had your fun with me, I ended up brain damaged, with a temper that scarred Sevvie for life! He was never afraid of me before that!" 

The Dark Lord sent a curse towards Lucien, but the white haired man dodged it, and sent another rack of the Animalia potion shattering against the floor. 

"What is it? Is Severus still a virgin?" Voldemort hissed with cruel delight. "Is that what troubles you? Are you worried that his first experience will leave him as irreparably damaged and unable to please another as you are now?" 

"He'll be killed!" Lucien screamed, dashing toward the shelves holding the last racks of phials. Lucien collapsed just short the targeted phials, and convulsed helplessly on the floor. 

"CRUCIO!" Voldemort yelled. 

Lucien's body writhed so fiercely against the floor, that his screams were disjointed. Although Harry had no love for Snape's father, his grandfather, he could not contain his rage for the Dark Lord's cruelty, and forgetting where he was, lunged at the Dark Lord with his fists flying. 

The Dark Lord simply walked right through Harry's fists, and over to the shelf where he retrieved the remaining rack of the bloody red potion. 

"Only two hours worth!" the Dark Lord hissed in disgust. "You'll pay dearly for this, White Snake!" 

Voldemort lifted the curse, not as an act of mercy, but to assure that Lucien would stop screaming long enough to hear what he had to say. "In times past, those who violated the orders of their lords were dealt with most harshly. To assure that they paid the price in full, some were forced to expire under torture." 

Lucien whimpered in terror, and Harry began to feel the beginnings of pity for his cruel grandfather. 

"Oh no, the Cruciatus Curse alone would be quicker and more efficient than you deserve." Voldemort knelt beside Lucien Snape, who was now sobbing for mercy for his son. "I have minions who are well trained in more traditional forms of torture. You'll die, of course, but not until I allow it." 

Lucien tried to spit in Lord Voldemort's eye, but his body was once again overcome by spasms. 

"After I've disciplined your wayward son, we shall return to deal with you." Voldemort cast the Cruciatus Curse again, but only to Lucien's hands, tongue and feet. "Don't go anywhere until I return." He then touched his wand to his arm to summon the Death Eaters. 

Time seemed to speed up again. Harry watched in terror as Lucien Snape screamed and writhed on the floor of the laboratory. Soon his voice grew hoarse, faded, and finally he could no longer scream, but the agony remained evident on Lucien's face.

* * *

Harry had to warn Severus, but he wasn't sure he would be seen. Apparently, it was not voluntary. All the other times these people from Harry's past had seen him, it had seemed like such a random occurrence. He sincerely hoped he could warn Severus this time. 

He blushed when he found himself standing behind a very naked Severus Snape. The man was working copious amounts of shampoo into his hair, as he stood in what looked very much like the showers adjoining the dressing rooms near the quidditch pitch at Hogwarts. But judging from the insignia on the fluffy towels hanging nearby, and Severus's uniform, which lay in a heap on a bench just outside the main shower area, this was not Hogwarts, but the University Severus attended. There were other boys standing under the showers on either side of Snape, and they were all engaged in conversations about the things important to University boys in the late 1970s. For a moment, Harry felt that he was in the middle of some 8-Track Flashback movie. 

Harry expected Severus to be one to rush in and out of showers as quickly as he could, but he took his time, stopping frequently to turn the faucet to cold and run the soothing water over his forearm. Harry moved closer to look at the Dark Mark, and noticed that Severus's arm was so badly burnt that he couldn't work out the mark at all. 

The water sluiced over Severus's body, but sprayed right through Harry. Harry found it odd that he could feel, or at least sense, the water's temperature, but could not feel the water itself. He stayed under the showers for a long time with Severus, trying desperately to warn him about the danger that was coming. Once, Harry had managed to pull the bar of soap out of Severus's hand, and had kicked over the shampoo bottle, but Severus seemed unaware of Harry's presence. 

To Harry's horror, the other boys finished their showers, donned their clothes, and departed, leaving Severus in large shower area alone. 

If Harry possessed skin at the moment, he would have jumped out of it when he became aware of a group of people skulking behind them. "Oh no!" Harry thought to himself. "The Death Eaters!"

* * *

Harry whirled around, and came face to face with his own living reflection, a split second before a rolled towel whisked right through him and smacked the younger Severus Snape in the backside. 

"POTTER!" Snape snarled, turning toward James Potter, Sirius Black and Petter Pettigrew, who were clad in only towels, standing behind him. 

Severus summoned the towel off of Peter's waist, turned him around, and smacked him in the bum as well. Sirius was laughing so hard, that he did not seem to notice, until Snape spelled his towel off and smacked him in the backside as well. 

"Confound it, SNAPE!" Sirius yelled, swinging a towel at Snape, missing his mark, and hitting the slender boy in his hip. 

"What are you reprobates doing in this institute of higher learning?" Snape scowled, looking absolutely ridiculous standing there naked, and holding a towel like a weapon. 

"Our college is playing against your University, Snape." James Potter replied, removing his own towel and taking aim. 

"Then what is he doing here?" Snape asked, motioning to Peter. "Surely no college in the entire UK would let him play for their quidditch team. Tell me, Pettigrew, are you still following Potter, Black and Lupin around like the grotesque tail you are?" 

Peter roared and swung the towel at Snape's face. A full fledged towel fight ensued, and Harry noted when all school uniforms and house colours were cast aside, all that was left were youths being youths. James and Peter finally tackled Snape, each snapping their towel no less than three times each on Severus's defenceless backside. 

"I must say," Snape remarked, looking surprisingly unruffled, considering how red his posterior appeared, "That three against one is not fair. FOR YOU!" with that Snape waved both of his arms, and in the best display of wandless magic Harry had ever seen, sent James, Peter and Sirius backpedalling right out the open doors of the washroom. 

"OY!" came Remus Lupin's raspy voice. He had been seated on a bench in the hallway, studying from his Advanced Dark Arts tome. "What are you fellows doing?" 

Before Sirius, James or Peter could respond, Severus Snape stepped out of the washroom and addressed the gathering crowd outside. "They are proving that Peter is the only natural blond amongst them. James and Sirius obviously are not." 

"SHUT UP, SNAPE!" said all three of them at once. 

The nineteen year-old Remus Lupin respectfully averted his eyes from his three friends. "You had better put your clothes on, before you become sick." 

"I have great pity for you, Moony." 

"Why is that, Prongs?" 

"You attend the same school as Snivellus!"

* * *

Fondness, in tandem with sorrowfulness, competed for Harry's consciousness. He watched the living Marauders re-robe, and leave the washroom with a heavy heart. While it was pleasing for him to see his father...strike that, fathers, godfather, a young Remus Lupin, and even a not yet corrupted Peter Pettigrew as they once were, the knowledge of what became of each of them seemed to play like a melancholy dirge in the background. Both James Potter and Sirius Black would die before they reached middle age; Peter would betray not only the Marauders, but most of the law abiding magical world as well; Remus Lupin would live a very hard life of near poverty; and Severus Snape had arguably the worst fate of all. 

As if in synchronicity with Harry's musings, the images before him broke into intermittent flashes, as though he were speeding forward on the timeline, and stopping for only fractions of seconds, before resuming his course. The scenes before him grew ever more painful to watch, yet by the time Harry would attempt to close his eyes, the scene would move on to the next image. There was Snape, holding his arm under the cool water of the shower again. It must have been burning terribly, as the red colour spread like an ugly dye down to his palm, and up to his shoulder. Harry panicked, and began shouting for Snape to run when he saw the human Voldemort, and a group of ten Death Eaters enter the washroom. There was something very wrong with them. The masked figures no longer walked, or even looked like humans. The ten only growled and made animal-like vocalizations rather than talked. Harry heard bits and pieces of the Dark Lord's conversation with Snape, and about how the Animalia potion exploited common genetic material humans had with certain animals, thereby enhancing their strength, and lowering their higher reasoning capabilities. 

Severus sprinted toward the exit, but his path was blocked by the phalanx of robed figures. The Dark Lord touched his ring to Severus, and they vanished. The Death Eaters apparated out immediately afterwards. 

The walls of the darkened mansion Harry had watched Snape take the dark mark in, materialized around him again. Harry turned away as Voldemort cast a modified impedimenta curse on Snape. 

Severus struggled feebly in the invisible bindings. "I've already brewed the potions you required! What more do you want of me?" 

Voldemort levitated Severus to his oaken desk, and dropped him onto it. "You are never to show any disrespect toward me again. I hold your very life in my hands, if I desired, I could simply close my hands and crush you!" 

Laying face-down on the oaken table, Severus began gagging, and Harry knew that Voldemort was employing wandless, dark magic to constrict Severus's throat. Harry turned away, as the animal-like Death Eaters descended on the nineteen year-old Severus Snape like a pack of dogs on their quarry. Although he could not see anything, the horrid sounds of Severus being assaulted in the most unspeakable ways pierced Harry's soul. Within the two-hour eternity, serious, irreparable damage was done to the 19 year-old boy. Harry could not escape the sounds of his father's pleas and agonized screams, and soon Harry was screaming as well, for he could somehow feel everything that was done. 

At last, the onslaught ceased, and Harry uncovered his eyes to find that he and Severus Snape were once again in the washroom at the University. The human Voldemort slapped Severus across the face once more. 

"It is partly in your hands, Black Snake. If you please me, and do exactly as you're ordered, you can brew any potion you desire, for you will have access to any ingredient on the planet. You can have riches beyond that of the wealthiest potion master in the UK, for I can arrange lucrative contracts with apothecaries throughout the world's richest markets. And your old school rivals will bow to your greatness." Voldemort tightened his 'grip,' causing Severus to wince and sob in pain, he was injured virtually everywhere on his body. "But if you disappoint me, or betray me in any way, I could make you suffer in this manner every day. Every day, until the day I see fit to end your life, I'll give you the same as you've received now. I could even give you worse. Your sire is well aware of that fact." 

"No..." Severus implored, the simple action of talking was torture. "Please...no more." 

"You are not your own, Snape." Voldemort said, turning to leave. "Just remember tonight, and strive never to disobey me again." 

Severus rasped something incomprehensible. 

"Say again?" 

"Y-yes, master." Severus repeated, tears coursing from his swollen black eyes. 

As Snape lay on the tiled floor, in the middle of a slowly expanding puddle of his own blood, Harry thought that Snape did not look like the victim of a violent assault by humans. The broken young man looked as though he had been mauled by wild animals. 

His dark eyes were open, but there was an emptiness to them, as though whatever substance his eyes once contained had been washed out by the high volume of tears he had shed over the duration of the attack. The tears flowed thinly now, and as they did, Snape's eyes appeared to grow even more hollow, nearly taking on the feel of dark tunnels. 

If two hours worth of the Animalia potion could inflict this much damage, what would the full dosage Voldemort had originally requested have done? How had Lucien Snape survived the full dosage? With brain damage, yes, but how did he survive at all? 

How could anyone be so cruel to another human being? 

Severus's black hair, which he had just washed back to its nearly iridescent state, was quickly becoming fouled by the blood flowing heavily from cuts on his scalp and face. Harry knelt beside his future father, wanting to help, but was unable to do more than put a comforting hand on a small area of his chest which was not gashed open, or heavily bruised. 

Severus turned to Harry, and it seemed as though the wounded man could see the 'preborn angel' for a fleeting moment. He moved his mouth to say something, but Harry could make no sense of it, as Severus's lips were too bruised and swollen. Severus then squeezed his eyes tightly closed and began sobbing uncontrollably. 

Harry did not think it possible for a person alone to bear such pain. Severus had lost everything. He had lost the only people in the world who had ever loved him; both his parents, and Lily. He had even lost his freedom, and would live the cursed life that used to be his sire's. He had also lost the chance to be a father. Harry's father. 

Evidently, Severus could not contain all the pain alone, for Harry burst into tears as well, crying for the man who was dying at a deeper level right before his eyes; crying for the man who would have been his father; crying for the man who really was his father and had never known. 

Inspiration struck Harry as suddenly as a brush fire fed by an accelerant. Harry quickly dashed the tears from his eyes, leaned close to Severus's face, and whispered softly: "Voldemort may think he's won, but you're still alive. And you won't have to fight alone for the rest of your life. Seventeen years from now, in my present time, I'll join you. Maybe neither one of us can defeat Voldemort alone, but together...well...I don't know even then, but I'm willing to try!" 

Severus began to cry more fervently, and Harry could not be certain whether it was because humans had a finite threshold for what they could endure, and Severus had simply had too much; or because Severus had indeed heard him. 

"I'm still alive as well. My body is weak, but it exists, and it can heal. You'll heal in time too..." Harry paused, knowing that the forthcoming months would be difficult, but at least neither of them would have to face them alone, "...Father!" 

The End Part Six 


	7. Awakening

** Remembrance And Renewal** by** Avatar Arkmage ** and ** Nigel Tatsuya**  
Chapter Seven: ** Awakening **

Harry decided to remain at his father's side until help arrived. Although he longed to somehow comfort the severely wounded Severus, Harry was careful never to move too close, for he was little more than a cold, disembodied soul at the moment, and Severus was already shivering in the low ambient temperature of the empty washroom.

After numerous attempts, Harry managed to gather the dry towels from the nearby racks, and used them to cover Severus. He was careful not to make any sudden movements, which could potentially frighten the already traumatised young man, who was but a few years older than Harry in this time.

Severus's puffy black eyes found Harry, his focus steady, unwavering. "I-I'm sorry."

"Why?"

Tears began flowing anew, and Severus bit his lower lip to stop it from quivering, but only succeeded in starting it bleeding once more. "I've d-denied you life. I've denied Lily, your mother, the chance to bear you..."

"What? You think I haven't been conceived yet?" Harry gasped. "But I have!"

Harry stopped when he saw that Severus had closed his eyes. Upon closer observation, Harry determined that he had lost consciousness. He might have been in shock from the massive loss of blood, for the towels on his wounded body, once white, were now bright scarlet with blood. In desperation, Harry rummaged through a nearby bin, withdrew a discarded tin, and kicked it about the washroom until the security wizards arrived to investigate.

* * *

Harry jumped forward in time, and was relieved to find that Severus had been taken to St. Mungos. Surprisingly, Albus Dumbledore was at his bedside. 

"Can you not heal him more completely?" The aged headmaster asked the mediwizard.

"His injuries are too extensive, such that even the magical pathways through his circulatory system are compromised," the mediwizard lamented. "If we heal his flesh too much at this point, the pathways could connect differently than they were before, and Severus might not be able to use his magics as he once did. He would be whole, but would need to relearn many things, even to cast the most basic spells and charms."

"So what you're saying..."

"I'm afraid so," the mediwizard sighed, as he assessed Severus's healing wounds, "we've stabilised him and healed him partially, but it is up to his body to remember the pathways his magics took before, and repair them on their own."

"How long?"

"Weeks. Perhaps even a month."

* * *

"Please, Headmaster." Severus implored. His wounds looked considerably better, and Harry surmised that weeks must have passed. Severus's voice however, was still weary and wracked with pain, and he still could not meander far from his hospital bed. "It is the only recourse we have. Allow me spy for you! I'm already marked, and I'll be condemned to reside with the devil himself if the side of the light does not take full advantage of this! Even if the Order does not, once I'm no longer of any use to him, The Dark Lord will terminate me anyway!" 

"No, Severus there will be other..." Albus Dumbledore began, his hand in Snape's firm grip.

"...Other families destroyed! Other lives ruined!" Severus could barely contain his rage in his now hollow eyes. "Please Headmaster, I am capable of informing the Order of The Dark Lord's movements now."

"You don't know that he will trust you, Severus. You may have been inducted into his service only because Voldemort required a potion master as skilled as yourself."

"He will trust me. I will be an utterly submissive man to him, obedient to his every whim. When The Dark Lord summons, I will apparate to his side, behaving as a broken man."

Harry sighed, he suspected Severus was at least partially broken, and was unwilling to admit it, even to himself. Now his unacceptable behaviours in Harry's present began to make more sense. Why he could not bear to be touched; why he wore clothing that concealed everything but his face and hands, even on the warmest days; why he never smiled; why he was always in such a foul mood and even cruel towards others. He had been broken for many years, and the consequences had compounded.

"If we do not, who then?" Severus pressed, his yellowing teeth bared.

Dumbledore regarded the teenaged Severus Snape gravely. "You are aware, that this will mean your very life if Voldemort discovers your deceit."

"I'm condemned either way! It is only a matter of when. Kill me now, or kill me fifty years from now, there is little difference."

After several more entreaties, Albus Dumbledore nodded and cast the legillimens upon Severus, to better know his heart. Severus was a Slytherin, after all, and not an easy man to trust. For next hour or so, Severus alternated between screaming in agony and weeping helplessly.

Albus Dumbledore hastily lifted the legillimens, and pulled away, tears flowing freely down his cheeks, and into his beard. The usual twinkling in his blue eyes was absent.

"Now you know." Severus sobbed, obscuring his face in his hands.

The aged headmaster nodded, looking many more than his then 139 years.

"Will you allow me to spy for you?"

Albus Dumbledore urged Severus into a more comfortable position, and smoothed the blankets over the battered boy's form. "Ask again, Severus, when you are well. You need your rest at the moment."

"Headmaster? Headmaster!"

* * *

"Good Heavens!" One of Severus's mates gaped on what might have been his first day back at the University. "What's happened to you? You look as though you've been attacked by wolves!" 

"Bugger off, Wilkes!" snapped Snape.

"But Severus, I was just..."

"Nosey parker!"

"Sorry I asked, then!" the poor bloke looked genuinely confused at Severus's tone. Harry soon surmised the reason;Wilkes had been one of the death eaters who had assaulted Severus whilst under the influence of the Animalia potion. Temporarily without the use of his higher brain, it must have been that Wilkes had no memory of that incident. 

The memory was all too fresh in Snape's mind.

* * *

The scene changed again, and Severus, who was now clad in long black robes, stood before Lily Evans outside the science building where he worked. He was still slightly unsteady on his feet, and Harry could see faint scarring along the young man's cheek, jaw and temple. 

The look of pure hurt on his mother's face nearly ripped Harry's heart in two. "But Sevvie! Why? WHY?"

"Because you are nothing more than a mudblood! Intelligent, though you are, your knowledge of anything in our world is gathered only from books, and the few years you've spent living amongst us. You'll never truly integrate into our culture, or understand our ways fully." Severus said unconvincingly. "And..." Severus's clenched his teeth, "I do not love you, Lily."

"What are you saying?" Lily cried.

"Surely nothing has adversely affected your hearing," sneered Severus, although his black eyes were glistening more than usual, "I've stated that I do not love you, must I say it again? Now go away, you're hindering me from my duties."

Lily drew her wand to hex him, but thinking better of it, slapped Severus hard on one cheek, and then on the other.

Severus cried out as pain exploded in his face. Lily had struck him where his cheek had been ripped open by an Animalia-influenced Death Eater just weeks before.

"I never loved you, Lils! I just took advantage of your willingness." Severus ground out, still in the throes of pain. "How could I ever truly love a filthy mudblood?"

Lily hexed Severus repeatedly, whilst Severus continued to insult her. To Harry, it appeared as though his father's goal were not only to lose his mother's love, but to earn her complete and total hatred.

Harry was furious at Severus's actions, and even managed to drop a phial on Severus's head when the youth eventually returned to his laboratories. Harry shouted angrily at his biological father, not caring whether or not Severus could actually hear him. He was about to upset another phial onto Severus, when he saw that his father's eyes were red and puffy, and there were the remains of tears on his now-scarred cheeks.

"Better she hate me than become the quarry of The Dark Lord." Severus said to the empty' room. He turned to where the spirit Harry was floating overhead, tears streaming once more from his eyes. "Better you hate me as well, for we shall never walk the Earth as father and son. I've denied you life..."

The image of the younger Severus faded, and for a moment, Harry believed he had once again slipped out that moment on the timeline. He realised shortly thereafter, that his eyes were so full of tears that he could no longer see.

* * *

Professor Severus Snape was roused by the sound of people shuffling past his hospital bed, and toward Potter's. Had the boy's condition worsened? Had he died? 

"Oh the poor boy!" Professor Minerva McGonagall remarked. "What is he dreaming about? He's crying."

Madam Pomfrey crossed her arms over her chest. "After what has happened to him, I cannot begin to imagine the horror. Those bloody Dursleys ought to be nailed to the rafters by their smalls!"

Severus rolled onto his side, facing in Harry's direction, and saw that there were tears tracking their way down the youth's cheeks.

When Albus Dumbledore caught Severus staring, he feigned as much disinterest as he could. He was the boy-who- bloody-would-not-die after all, of course he would survive. And like his sire James Potter, Harry would live to be an infuriating prat.

* * *

"Snivellus!" came James Potter's voice from outside the laboratory's windows. 

Severus Snape ignored him, and continued fabricating graphorn horn for the potion he was brewing.

"Hey Snape!" it was Sirius Black's voice, "hey you manky bampot! Get your arse out here! We wish to speak with you!"

"If you don't come outside, we'll come after you!" Peter Pettigrew threatened.

As much as Harry disliked Snape, he could not help but be angered at the Marauder's actions, which reminded him of the Slytherin trio. Or that of Dudley and his friends.

Sirius picked up some loose rocks which had chipped away from the cobblestone path, uttered a spell, then threw them through the laboratory window. A few of the rocks fell into the cauldron, splashing the boiling potion onto Severus, while the other rocks struck Severus.

Severus gathered the rocks from the floor, retrieved the ones in the caldron and stalked toward the window.

"No...no don't!" Harry warned.

The dour youth then pelted James Potter, Sirius Black and Peter Pettigrew with the rocks, striking each of them at least once. One of the rocks struck Sirius in the eye.

James immediately drew his wand, and cast a curse which inverted Severus, and floated him out the window in a cruel parody of what they had done just over four years ago. As before, Severus's robes fell over his head, but this time, no greying undercrackers were revealed underneath, but clean white ones and a network of supportive bandaging.

"Whoah Snivelly," Sirius sneered, "did you hurt yourself trying to don muggle clothing, or did Lily do that to you when you broke up with her?"

Chagrined, Severus tried to cover himself. Mercifully, or mercilessly, James Potter lifted the spell, and dropped Severus onto the ground. "Whatever she did, if she did that, you deserved it for treating her the way you did. Why did you break her heart like that?"

"It is none of your concern!" Severus hissed.

"How you've treated Lily is my concern, being that she's realised that you're not enough man for her, and is to be **MY WIFE** now." James shouted.

Severus merely nodded, and made to return to his work. James however, seemed unsatisfied and kicked Severus in the centre of his back.

"Are you not overjoyed, Potter?" Severus groused, somewhat breathlessly. "You've wanted Lily all along, and she's finally resigned herself to a life with you. Now naff off, Potter, take Lily for a ride on your broom."

"Why, Snivelly?" Sirius interjected. "She didn't like yours?"

When Severus ignored the barb completely, Peter dashed ahead of him, blocking has route back into the laboratory. Sirius and James jumped the still-convalescing youth and subdued him with ease.

Harry turned to the spirit James, who was watching his living self and friends pummel the defenceless man on the ground, "Dad, three against one?"

James averted his head, and Harry felt deep remorse surge from him.

"And he was already injured..." Harry said, pitying Severus's feeble attempts to escape the three boys.

"We didn't know," James sighed, "and I was too blinded by anger at how he hurt Lily! Your mother was distraught when Sniv-Severus cast her away like yesterday's issue of the Daily Prophet."

"Besides," Sirius broke in, "what were we supposed to do? Walk up to Snivelly and ask him if he's been hammered by anyone lately?"

Harry did not believe he was truly speaking in defence of his most despised professor, but the words were out of his mouth before he could stop them. "So it took all three of you to avenge mum's feelings? Have you ever fought fairly in your entire life?"

Harry regretted his words, but was overwhelmed with concern for Severus and found himself back in Mervidith Snape's now empty house. It felt more empty than ever, even though Harry realized there was a figure sitting at the foot of Mervidith's leather chair, clad in black robes which concealed every vestige of exposed skin, save the man's face and part of his hands.

It was Severus Snape.

In his arms, he held what appeared to be a handmade doll. On its head was the blue wool hat Harry had seen Mervidith knitting in an earlier vision, and Harry was overwhelmed with grief. His grandmother must have also made that tiny, smiling doll, and charmed it to react to any affection shown to it. She had probably made it for Harry to hold in his tiny arms when he was born. Its smile grew wider each time Severus hugged it tightly, and its whole body glowed faintly, which would surely serve to comfort a small child afraid of the dark. Harry also noticed that it tried to nestle itself closer to Severus each time he tried to push it away.

"I'm so sorry," Severus whispered to the doll as tears rolled down his cheeks, and fell on the knitted blanket he had swaddled the doll in. "I've done a far greater injustice to you, than my father ever did to me. I did worse than kill you, my dear son." Severus began sobbing. "I've denied you life..."

Harry floated in front of Severus and grasped his arms. To Harry's surprise, he was able to hold onto his father as though he were a solid entity. "Father...!"

Severus made no response, but embraced the swaddled doll in his arms more tightly.

"Father!" Harry shouted more stridently.

"Go away, little green-eyed angel." Severus barely managed to choke out. "I've failed you...I've failed everyone...allow me to atone in the years I have left!"

"No Father!" Harry shouted, although he was unsure whether or not Severus could hear him. "You did give me life! I am alive!"

"Witches know their bodies well," Severus said without looking in Harry's direction. "It has been nearly five weeks. If your mother, Lily, if she was indeed with child, she would have told me. How, or why you are here now...I do not understand."

"You didn't give her the CHANCE to tell you!" Harry screamed.

Severus began weeping in earnest. He curled into a ball on the floor, still holding the doll in his arms, and looking every bit the grieving father he truly was. Harry floated around him in circles, his wails rivalling those of Moaning Myrtle.

"Better that you never existed though." Snape went on, his face looking more and more like the emotionless mask Severus customarily wore in Harry's present. "You'd have an even harder life than I had. You'd have no grandfather, no grandmother, and in a short time, no parents. And you'd be a marked boy. You'd only know grief in this life. Father is a spy now, little angel. Spies only live as long as they can uphold their facade. Unless Father's skills at espionage are exceptional, he will only live a few years... until the Dark Lord learns of the betrayal." Severus stopped and shuddered, he had received but two hours worth of the Dark Lord's unadulterated wrath. "And in all likelihood, the Dark Lord will spill yours and your mother's blood as well. Neither you, nor your mother deserves that. Farewell, my angel son."

"No!" Harry cried, frustrated that Severus could not seem to hear him. "No no no no no!"

"Go back to your place of origin. I do not know where that is, but I've heard it said that it is a place without hate, without want...a place where there is no sadness, or loneliness." Severus stopped, tears were flowing freely from his eyes once more. "I envy you, my son, being allowed passage into a place mortals cannot. My mother, your Grandmother, said that it never grows dark there, because your souls shine brighter than the combined light of all the stars in the universe. Go back now, angel-son you'll not be lonely for long. Your grandmother is probably there awaiting your arrival, and ... and father will join you shortly."

"Nooooooooooooo!" Harry wailed, circling over Snape's head.

Harry faded from the scene. So much needed to be righted. And Harry was ready to begin.

* * *

Harry thought deeply on the infirmary in his own time, and he was there on the instant. Around him, with nothing but the deepest love and support, were Lily, James, and Sirius. Harry hugged them all in turn. "As you can see son," James began, "there are many things we wish we had done differently in life." 

A pang ripped through Harry's spirit form more effectively than if a dagger had pierced his heart. James and Sirius regretted their actions toward Severus; how they had added proverbial irritants to his already deep wounds. Harry felt both their guilt and their powerlessness. They had once had the power to help Severus, or at the very least to ease some of his heavy burden by not adding to it. But they could do nothing.

Heavy though his heart was, Harry knew what he had to do. "I'm going to miss you, Mum, Dad, Uncle Sirius."

"We'll miss you too, Harry." James, Lily and Sirius said in unison.

"You don't have to be entirely without us though." James said, wiping tears from his ghostly, hazel eyes. "As soon as you're able, seek out one of the House Elves at Hogwarts. Her name is Yumi, she used to be the Potter house elf. She served many generations of Potters until our deaths left her orphaned."

"We had a house elf?" Harry dreaded Hermione's reaction to that revelation.

"Most old wizarding families have at least one elf," explained James . "Yumi was so dutiful. And quite a good artist."

Harry's jaw went slack when he heard that. It had not occurred to him that house elves did anything other than menial tasks.

"Ask her to paint a portrait of us." James went on. "All three of us if you like. There are special paints and pigments you'll have to acquire for her, and special potions to mix into the paints."

"Convenient huh?" Sirius cut in, patting Harry on the back, "having a potion's master for an old man?"

"You can have yourselves made into a magical painting? So long after your deaths? You can really still talk to me?" Harry could not believe it. Did he dare hope?

"Many house elves are more powerful than the wizards they serve. If anyone can create a means for us to maintain contact, it's Yumi." James went on with a certain fondness for his former servant.

Harry turned toward where his body lay on the hospital bed. Save for extremely shallow breathing, Harry's body was completely motionless, as though he had ingested the draught of living death. On the bed next to him, much to both his surprise and to his relief, lay Severus Snape. Both men looked worse for wear, but alive and safe nonetheless.

"Wait Harry, there is one more thing." Lily's voice halted him.

Harry stopped within inches of falling back into his body. "What is it, mum?"

"Although it is your choice to approach your father with these revelations, I must caution you." Lily said, looking lovingly at the still forms of her son and her former lover as they on their beds. "While living as a father and son could bring great joy to both of you, this will not be without great danger. Although Severus is an outstanding occlumens, Voldemort has been attempting to break him down all these years..."

"But Snape is one of the most skilled..."

"...yes my son." Lily went on, laying her translucent hand over Snape's almost cadaverous one. "But he has been subjected to tortures and the Cruciatus curse more often than most human beings can endure. His increasing short-temper, paranoia and ever emptier expressions attest to that. He is fast reaching the limits of his endurance, and is gradually losing control. When he does, Voldemort will gain full access to his mind."

Harry lowered his head. What hopes he had of demolishing the walls of their animosity, which had been fortified over five long years, and beginning construction on the foundations of their future as family, burned to the ground. Telling Snape the truth would endanger both of them.

"I want to at least talk to him." Harry said, a new and more profound frustration flaring anew.

"Go on then, talk to him if you like!" Sirius said reassuringly. "If I've learned anything over the years, it's that Snape's tongue is more destructive than his hands. What's the worst that could happen?"

"He'll despise me even more than he already does?"

"If he can accept those affections after all these years of being so deprived of them." Lily said, kneeling beside the sleeping man. "Just as giving a starving person too much food all at once could be dangerous, so could giving him too much love after such an absence..."

"No danger in that," Harry lamented. "He probably won't allow me near him, he hates me."

James rolled his eyes. "Did you jump through the past with your eyes closed? He doesn't despise you! He despises me, and you, as Harry Potter, but do you really believe he hates his own son?"

"You saw Snivelly crying his beady eyes out over his green-eyed angel!'" Sirius cut in. "Once he knows who you really are, he probably won't hate you anymore. He might even give Mrs. Weasley competition for the award of 'most sappiest and smothering parent of the year,' and then you can kill ol Snapey with kindness if you like. "

"Feed him the mushiness until he pukes if it pleases you." James added mischievously. "Who knows, it might actually make him stronger to Voldemort's attacks if he knows that there is some one who cares about him, and wants him to survive."

"Ohhh, you don't really hate Harry, do you?" Sirius asked, moving closer to Snape and patting his forehead roughly enough to push the long haired man deeper into his pillow. "You hate me and James don't you, you git?"

"Padfoot!" James chortled, stopping Sirius before he gave Snape a headache to go along with the body aches he already had. "If you're worried about him rejecting you, why not allow him to know you as Harry. Just Harry."

Harry smiled as he recalled his own words from shortly before he embarked on his journey into the magical world. How fitting they should be spoken again as he returned to that magical world. He bid his mother, adopted father and godfather a final farewell and leaned into his sleeping body, relishing the knowledge that he had one living parent waiting... whether he knew it or not; whether he wanted it to be or not

* * *

Harry was overcome with a feeling of great malaise and lethargy. He was back in his battered, and nearly drowned body. Undaunted from his objective, he turned toward Professor Snape's bed... 

...and saw that the man was staring back at him. 

Severus Snape wanted nothing more than to turn away from Harry's intense stare, currently unencumbered by the overly thick spectacles which normally diffused their strength. He longed to escape from the pair of eyes which so reminded him of the first regrowth of leaves after an endless, dark winter. A near exact replica of his beloved Lily's eyes. 

Although Harry's glasses were still at Number Four Privet drive, and he was now in the infirmary at Hogwarts, Harry was surprised to find no urgent need for reunification with them. Although the world around him lacked perfect clarity, and the most distant objects in the ward were relegated to smudges of colours without distinct edges, Harry found that his unaided vision had greatly improved since the summer began. 

He could discern Severus's sallow face, as the man lay on the adjacent bed. He noted the obsidian eyes and matching jet black hair, although his myopic vision did not allow him to see the fine lines and scars which marred the man's pale complexion. In that moment, Harry thought that his father looked completely unchanged from the grieving man he had been almost seventeen years in the past. To Harry, time had folded upon itself, and that man was no more than a metre or so away. 

Severus attempted to turn from Harry, but found he could not. The excuses of being in too much pain, or being too weak eluded him. It was as though something else compelled him to continue to face the boy. 

Concern was the first thing that Severus considered, but he quickly pushed that thought aside. He was certainly not concerned for Potter. 

Harry broke the uncomfortable silence, treading cautiously. "Professor Snape? Are you okay, sir?" 

Taken aback by either Potter's uncharacteristic politeness, or the fact that the boy had spoken at all, Severus could not readily concoct a sarcastic retort. The boy was trembling, and only seemed to want reassurance. "I am alive. How do you fare, Potter? You've been unconscious for nearly two days." 

"A bit sore...and tired." Harry spoke hesitantly, noting that his father's face lacked its customary sneer. Was it that Snape was too exhausted to sneer properly, or did he have no desire to do so? 

Severus's face showed only a vestige of repressed agony as his eyes disappeared behind long, dark lashed lids. "Madam Pomfrey should be along to sort you out shortly." 

Harry suspected that Severus had not closed his eyes out of exhaustion, but merely to avoid Harry's gaze. "Professor Snape..." 

The dark eyes snapped open. "What is it, Potter?" 

Harry had not decided on anything to say. He wanted to tell Snape of his journey freed from both the bonds of his body, and the linear timeline. He longed to tell Severus that he partially understood why he did the things he did, and why he could empathize with the choices the man had made in his youth. Most of all, he wanted to tell Professor Snape that he was his son, and would very much like to purge any remaining differences between them, and begin laying the foundation for what would hopefully be an amicable relationship. Sadly, Harry knew that speaking of any of these things might not only offend the older man, but would be dangerous to both of them as well. 

"WHAT, Potter?" Snape sounded annoyed now. He threw back the blanket, and tried wearily to prop himself up with his badly bruised arm. He supported himself on his elbow for only two seconds before he collapsed back onto the bed. 

"Uh..." Harry randomly asked another question he had been wondering about. "How did I end up in Hogwarts? And in the infirmary?" 

Knowing full well that Harry had been unconscious since he nearly drowned that day, but not wanting to admit that he had been the one who rescued the boy, Snape answered with a question. "You don't remember?" 

"No," Harry replied, noticing that Snape was purposely avoiding his gaze. "Last thing I remember, I was at my Uncle's house, and then I woke up here." He intentionally omitted details. "Do you know who...?" 

"The person who rescued you from a most grievous death," Headmaster Dumbledore walked across the empty infirmary and placed a hand on the long haired man's shoulder, "was Professor Snape." 

"Rescued?" Harry rubbed his still hairless chin as he searched his vague memories. "I was drowning...I couldn't raise my head from under the water..." 

Seeing that Snape was not going to offer any information, Dumbledore volunteered it. "It was in the report that Professor Snape submitted to me." The Headmaster pulled a parchment out of his robes and opened it halfway, the report of the Death Eater meeting safely hidden from his innocent eyes. Harry squinted to read the small, neat handwriting and recognized it as Professor Snape's scrawl. He gasped at how detailed the report was, covering every thing from the description of the Dursley's flower beds to-- 

Harry dropped the parchment when he read the description of his injuries following his being pulled from the tub. The memories of the beating at the hands of his cousin and friends, as well as his being cast into the tub, and being helpless to prevent his own drowning flared into the forefront of his mind. Trailing behind, were the fainter memories of a little boy being held under unbearably hot water. 

Severus Snape suddenly found a reserve of strength that had previously eluded him, and rolled over, turning his back to the headmaster and Harry. He pulled the covers over himself, leaving only the upper portion of his head visible. Locks of his ungreased black hair cascaded over the pillow, and hung over the edge of the bed. Harry noted that Snape's almost iridescent, ivory black hair was the same shade as his own. From what he had seen in the Mirror of Erised, James Potter had slightly lighter black hair, perhaps the same shade as the darkest coffee. Harry noted that Severus's hair near the follicles seemed to grow outward and away from his scalp. Harry wondered if Snape were to cut off his long tresses, would the hair become as hard to tame as his? Might that be why the older man normally wore so much oil in his hair? 

The headmaster rolled the parchment and spelled it away. He reached over to Harry and rubbed comforting circles about his back. Harry's gaze had not left the man, facing away from him in the adjacent bed. "Professor Snape?" 

"Potter, do you intend on telling me something of significance, or do you merely take pleasure in saying my name, and otherwise making a nuisance of yourself?" 

"I–I just wanted to say...well-- thank you...sir." Harry knew it sounded lame, but it was all he could manage with his mind suddenly so full. It was an irony, a profound paradox which played in his mind like unceasing, overly loud, background music. Severus Snape, along with Lily Evans, had given Harry life, yet the former hadn't, and still didn't know that he had done so. Harry had indirectly saved Severus by defeating the Dark Lord whilst still an infant, thereby buying years for this spy, who otherwise would not have lived past his twenty-fifth birthday. Together, both of them saved the lives of many wizards, yet neither fully understood that they had saved the other. Of late, things had come full circle, and Severus had saved Harry yet again, as he had done time and again over the last six years. 

"It was no more than any other person would have done." Snape said in a dismissive tone. "Headmaster Dumbledore sent me, and is more deserving of your gratitude. However..." Severus shifted his position slightly, but did not face the boy "...you...you're welcome." 

Thinking that Severus was either too tired to talk, or was merely being his usual antisocial self, the Headmaster and Harry initiated their own conversation. 

Severus thought it safest to feign sleep or indifference, but he could not deny that he was feeling relieved that the boy had lived yet again. Had he arrived in the upstairs bathroom at Number Four Privet Drive just moments later... Severus did not want to think about that, but the feeling of immense relief that followed when he had managed to revive Potter washed over him yet again. 'Yes,' he admitted only to himself. Be cursed if any living soul were to find out. 'I am relieved that Potter is still alive.' 

Still engaged in a conversation about cockroach clusters, the Headmaster paused briefly and looked in Snape's direction, his blue eyes twinkling once again like distant pulsars.

* * *

Poppy came in a while later to do her rounds. Not wanting to incur the school nurse's wrath, Dumbledore politely excused himself and promised to return later. 

"How are you feeling today, Mr Potter?" Madam Pomfrey asked somewhat brusquely as she raised Harry's pajama top and began her assessment. 

"Great! Never better." Harry lied. 

Madam Pomfrey regarded him suspiciously as she continued her work. Although she had been able to heal Harry's most critical injuries, it would take a few days for the pain and discomfort to fully subside. The potions needed to restore the proper balance in his considerably dilute blood would leave him feeling dizzy. Snape often acted the same way, no matter how bad his condition. What was it about these two men? Each of them spent more time in the infirmary than most of their peers combined, yet neither usually came on his own accord. Harry was often dragged in by his friends, or else was brought in via the mobilicorpus spell. 

Professor Severus Snape, unless unconscious, or otherwise forcibly coerced, would not seek help at all. 

Madam Pomfrey gave Harry a few potions and pulled the covers back over him. She washed her hands in a nearby basin and moved over to the more gravely injured man. 

Harry knew that he ought to respect Professor Snape's privacy and turn away, as the man had done while Madam Pomfrey worked on him, yet he could not help but steal brief glances in his direction as he lay on his back. He had seen his father receive these particular injuries, and had seen him at his most vulnerable, after all. Harry regretted his decision as a faint gasp escaped him when he saw the wounds riddling the man's body. 

Both Madam Pomfrey and Professor Snape turned toward him, but Harry pretended to be retching at the taste of the second bottle of potion still in his hands. He thought he saw amusement in Snape's eyes at that, and concluded that Professor Snape must add inert, but extremely bitter substances to his potions from time to time. 

Harry rolled over, facing away from them. "Blech! Disgusting...ugh!" He exaggerated his reactions to the third potion to cover up his musings. He wondered why Professor Snape's body was in such bad condition. The bruising along Snape's chest and sides looked very fresh, and the cuts on his legs looked as though they might still ooze blood if the sheets or bandaging materials rubbed them even slightly too hard. Knowing that Madam Pomfrey was fastidious enough to spell a paper cut closed if one were presented to her, Harry figured that Snape must have refused Poppy's healing spells. Judging from the amount of pain he appeared to be in, Professor Snape must not have not taken any of his own healing potions either. 

'Did the man have to be so stubborn, even in matters of his health?' Harry grumbled to himself. 'And he calls me and my da–James, arrogant? How much more arrogant can you be than to refuse healing when you really need it? For what? Just to prove that you're a tough bloke or something? That you can gut things out no matter how severe?' 

Harry stopped his line of thought abruptly when he realized that Snape might be just sneaky enough to probe his mind without his knowledge. He would not want to be caught thinking those thoughts. For that matter, he would need to push thoughts of everything he had seen in the past few days as far back as possible. How ironic that the same man who had made Harry despise occlumency with a passion, should be the same one to make him want to practice it more then ever.

* * *

Madam Pomfrey tucked the blankets up to Snape's neck when she finished her ministrations on him. Working with a patient who could not be readily healed was hard enough, but not being able to alleviate, or even reduce the pain was infinitely worse. It did not help matters much that Severus's face showed little to no pain, Poppy knew from experience that even the slightest microgesture from him meant agony the average person could barely endure. 

As she made to head to the kitchens for a meal which she would beg the house elves to prepare heavily with strong, mind-numbing magical liquors, she began to prepare proposals in her mind. The first she would write after dinner; it would call for a ban of Interventio Interferus potions and its derivatives. There were absolutely no redeeming values in them, even though some medifolk had touted it as a promising treatment for substance addiction. 

She would also write a recommendation that Professor Severus Snape be released from duty as a spy. Of late, it appeared that he-who-must-must-not-be-named was becoming more vicious, especially against Professor Snape. No matter how valuable the information Severus managed bring back to the order, the price he was paying was far greater. How long would it be before he ended up permanently maimed or dead? 

"URFF!" Poppy exclaimed when she bumped into Remus Lupin. His arms were so laden with flowers and muggle candies that he could hardly see around the pile. 

"Oh I'm so sorry, Poppy!" The fair haired man said, whilst attempting to balance a box of jelly beans on the top of the pile. "I just ran into a bunch of people outside who wanted to send some get well gifts to Professor Snape and Harry Potter." 

Not wanting to also treat Remus for a back injury or something equally severe, Poppy waved him in without further delay. The thought of Lupin being in the hospital wing with Snape there as well was quite frightening. While it wouldn't be as bad as when they were students at Hogwarts, she knew that it would at least result in one or both of them trying to escape from the infirmary. She already had enough trouble trying to keep Severus there. 

"Poppy!" It was Professor Mcgonagall's voice. "I'm on my way to the kitchens. Care to join me?" 

"Delighted!" Madam Pomfrey sighed with relief. 

"Professor Lupin!" Harry shouted, effectively startling Severus, who had begun to doze off. 

"Hello Harry, Hello Severus." The man moved somewhat haltingly into the room, despite all the improvements Severus had made to the wolfsbane potion, the post-transformation period was still exhausting. 

"What are you doing, Lupin?" Snape's voice was heavy with annoyance and disturbed rest. "I would advise you not to attempt to transport so many things at once. You could end up..." Snape's sneer returned. "...hurting yourself." 

Although Severus said nothing more, he couldn't help but notice Professor Lupin's gait. His limp was far more pronounced, and he moved slower than he normally would at this time of the month. Severus lay back and began pondering the wolfsbane potion. What sort of anti-inflammatory ingredients could he add without inhibiting the properties of the potion? He would have to begin work on it as soon as he was able to return to his laboratories. 

"News travels quickly in the magical world it would seem. These are from some of your students, Severus, mostly the female ones I might add." Lupin placed some of the sweets on Severus's tray table before placing the rest on Harry's, " these are from your friends Harry." 

I've never seen some of these confections before, but they smell like chocolate and seem safe." Lupin distributed the sweets and flowers, then sat down between the two beds. He looked from Severus to Harry in turn. It was with great relief that he noted that Harry and Severus were neither exchanging words that would have made McGonagall blush, or else hexing each other at the slightest provocation. A good sign indeed. 

"I went to Number Four Privet Drive and got your things, Harry." Lupin unzipped a large rucksack and immediately placed Harry's glasses back on the boy's face. "The Dursleys hired cleaners to take care of the flood damage on the second floor of their house, so it was easy for me to sneak in." 

Harry rummaged through the bag and was relieved to find most of his school books, letters from his friends, smuggled sugar-free snacks from Hermione, and baked treats from Ron. Best of all, his wand was there as well. "Thanks, but didn't the cleaning crew notice you though?" 

"Not at all, I just gave one of the workers a sleeping potion in his coffee, stole his uniform and hat, and kept my head down the whole time we were working. I got to run that vavoom cleaner." Lupin said, smiling. " When the boss called for our lunch break, I snatched up your things and left." 

Realizing that he could see equally well with his glasses as without them, Harry placed his spectacles on the bedside table and lay back. "Thanks, Professor Lupin." 

Lupin beamed at being addressed as "Professor Lupin" again. He was overjoyed that he would be returning as the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor once more. He would have to leave and start working on his lesson plans soon. The students were at least two years behind in their lessons, judging from the quality of the teachers who were employed in the position in the preceding years. "Don't worry about the rest of your things, Harry. They've already been taken up to Gryffindor tower, and Hedwig is doing just fine at the owlry." 

They spoke a while longer, over some of Harry's sweets, which he was still happy to share, having not had treats to share in the earlier years of his life. He finally bid Professor Remus Lupin farewell when Madam Pomfrey returned and ordered him to "leave the patients to rest!". 

"Good night, Harry. Good Night, Severus." Lupin hugged Harry, then walked over to Severus and patted his shoulder. 

"Night, Lupin." Snape replied, fending off the werewolf's hands. "And you've done a faulty job as a cleaner!" 

"What?" Remus asked, his amber eyes round like saucers. "You weren't there, how do you know I did a faulty job as a cleaner with the muggles?" 

Severus answered so softly that Harry could hardly hear, but he thought he heard Severus say, "because you failed to use the vavoom cleaner on the Dursleys. That would have indeed been a thorough job."

* * *

After a light supper of clear soup and tea, Harry propped himself up, and began rifling through the less familiar muggle treats on his tray table. Severus, not feeling tired yet, did the same, recognizing none of the muggle confections amongst the chocolate frogs and every flavour beans before him. Harry picked out a large chocolate bar with a blue and white wrapper on it and began munching away. Severus watched Harry discreetly for a while, then found an identical candy bar in his own pile of treats and decided it was safe to eat. Who but a muggle would think to put crunchy rice into a milk chocolate bar? Severus made plans to venture into muggle London for more of these chocolate bars when he recovered. 

Harry rummaged through the pile again, and unwrapped a package of peanut butter cups. He watched in amusement when Snape did the same. Harry entertained the idea of asking Ron or Hermione to get some friends to deliver some Warheads, Hot Peppers or Super Lemon sweets whilst they were still in the hospital. Knowing that Snape would only eat what he saw Harry eating first to prove its safety, his old man was in for some nasty surprises. 

But tomorrow, Snape would wake up to a much more pleasant surprise, Harry thought, stroking he smooth holly wood of his wand. Harry had read his Charms texts since the beginning of Summer, and had memorised some of the basic healing charms. Once he was sure Snape was asleep, he would heal some of the man's wounds.

* * *

Shortly after Madam Pomfrey made her final rounds, and had extinguished the torches in the infirmary, Severus sat up abruptly in his bed. At first Harry thought that the older man had positioned himself in a bad way, and had jumped up in pain, but Harry noticed that Severus was clutching his left arm. 

**He was being summoned!**

The man yanked the intravenous line out of his right arm, and tried to sit up. 'Why had Madam Pomfrey employed a muggle method of administering fluids like that?' Harry wondered. 

Harry could see little more than Professor Snape's silhouette in the darkened room, but he could discern that Snape's face was contorted in agony. The man raised the hem of his white pajamas, and attempted to remove the tubes still draining fluids from his body, but only succeeded in causing himself greater pain. Professor Snape started shuddering in a effort to keep from crying out, and eventually pulled a pillow over his face and vocalized into it. 

Harry was at a loss as to what to do at this point. Surely Professor Snape wasn't actually going to a Death Eater Meeting? What could he do in this condition? Lay on the floor and hope to trip his victims if they went on a raid? And if Voldemort wanted Professor Snape to brew potions, he was more likely to fall into his own caldron, than to accomplish those tasks with any degree of proficiency. 

Professor Snape recovered somewhat, and began shredding the sheets from his bed. He used the strips of fabric to secure the tubes to himself to prevent further injury by his movements, and after readjusting his pajamas, he limped out of bed and made for the door leading out of the infirmary. With luck, he could run back to his chambers unencumbered, change into his Death Eater attire, and arrive at the meeting without too much delay. 

"Professor Snape?" Harry forestalled the man, just as he reached for the handle on the door. 

"WHAT, POTTER?" Professor Snape glared at Harry. 

"Where are you going?" 

"That is none of your concern," Severus hissed, but when Harry sat up and made to leave his own bed, Severus elaborated. "To the toilet, you infernal boy! I'm going to the toilet, now go back to sleep before Madam Pomfrey has a fit!" 

"But there's no one else here in the infirmary." Harry stated, motioning to the door not more than two metres away from their beds. "Why not use the loo here?" 

"Because I prefer my own toilet, not the same one you, or other students and staff have sat on!" Now Harry wondered why Professor Snape got so annoyed at students for concocting stupid excuses, when he came up with arguably the stupidest one Harry had ever heard. Granted, he was unprepared for the question, but surely some one like Professor Snape would have said something more believable. 

Time was suddenly slowed to Harry. He continued to gaze at the silhouette of his father in the doorway, his long black hair gleaming in the flickering torchlight from the hall. Harry was suddenly overcome by sadness, desperation and longing. This was his father, how could he stand idly by, and watch the man walk into what might be his death? Even if there was no love between them, Severus Snape saved his life. It was time to return the favour. 

'How dare Voldemort take my parents away?' Harry thought, anger rising inside of him like the froth on a caldron heated for too long. The rage was far more intense than any of Harry's other emotions. 'Be damned if he takes my only remaining parent away. Voldemort won't have him!' 

Heedless of the pain exploding in his body, Harry lunged at the door. After quickly determining the least injured area of his body, Harry wrapped his arms around the area just below Severus's waist and wrenched him back into the infirmary. 

"Potter!" Snape yelled, struggling against Harry's surprisingly firm grip. "What the bloody hell are you doing?" 

Harry was concentrating too hard on restraining the older man to reply. He knew he had to tell Dumbledore, Pomfrey, Lupin...or anyone who could help for that matter. 

"Potter, have you gone mental?" Snape grated, struggling harder this time. "Release me this instant!" 

"NEVER!" Harry shouted his reply as loudly as he could, hoping that Madam Pomfrey would hear. 

Harry tightened his grip and continued to drag the grappling man back to his bed. They were only a few strides away from their beds when Severus succeeded in prying Harry's arms off, the inertia of their movements causing the boy to be thrown backwards onto the floor. Harry scrambled up, and ran after Severus who had resumed his course towards the exit, and grabbed him around the waist again. Exasperated, Severus forcefully pulled himself free, the extreme motion sent Harry careening into the metal railings on one of the empty beds. He hit his head hard, and lay motionless on the floor where he fell, a slow trickle of blood appearing around his head. 

"Potter?" Snape yelled, dropping to the floor beside the boy. "Potter!" 

End Part Seven 


	8. The Death Eater Raids Commence

**Remembrance and Renewal** by **Nigel Tatsuya** and **Avatar Arkmage**  
Chapter Eight: ** The Raids **

"Bloody Hell!" grumbled Fred Weasley. "I can't believe they've assigned us to the most remote muggle town in the entire UK! Any more remote, and we'd have to learn a new dialect just to ask where the toilets are." 

"This is your first assignment, Fred." Bill shrugged patiently, his dragon fang earring reflecting the light from the street lamp. "What do you expect?" 

Aurors and members of the Order of the Phoenix had been dispatched to strategic locations across the UK in anticipation of the night's Death Eater raid. Having left Hogwarts in the previous school year, Fred and George Weasley, in a logical progression from Dumbledore's Army, served the Order and its members, but were denied admission into the actual Order of the Phoenix itself. George, upon hearing of their assignment to the remote, potentially uneventful location of Beretaniashire, opted to stay behind and catch up on the bookkeeping for their newly opened Weasley's Wizard Wheezes joke shop. George had assured Molly and Arthur that he would assist the aurors assigned to that area, if the situation required it. 

"All right, Fred?" Bill called his brother's attention. "We must set the deterrent charms straightaway. We've got to get the muggles off the streets before midnight, then watch their homes for any unusual activity." 

"Get the Muggles off the streets," Fred parroted. He could not comprehend why the Death Eaters would want to attack such an old fashioned town. Beretaniashire seemed to have no redeeming qualities, save for its capability of inducing slumber in a people afflicted with chronic insomnia. The town looked as though only some of their residents owned a fellytone. Fred concluded that most of the residents probably had the eckeltricity installed only last week, as most residents still used wood stoves and candles. 

Rather than wasting precious time casting muggle repelling charms every few metres on the street, Fred released handfuls of dungbombs into random sewer drains. 

"Fred!" Bill admonished upon regrouping. "What are you doing?" 

"Repelling muggles."Fred replied simply. 

"You were supposed to use muggle repelling charms!" Bill roared in a whispering voice, reminding Fred a little too much of their mother. 

"This will repel them just as effectively." Fred patted his older brother on the arm a little too roughly to appear reassuring. 

"And us! You've used so many dung bombs!" Fred was sure that if human hair could change colours in the same fashion as the skin of chameleons, that Bills hair would have turned white when he saw all the dungbombs floating in the sewer. 

"So it will smell like five hundred latrines that haven't been cleaned since Godric Gryffindor was our age! Ahhh you worry too much," Fred replied smugly. "Besides, George and I have been working on these things. They leave no trace once they've been detonated. The muggles will probably blame it on a break in their doosew-er pipes or something." 

"You had better be right about this, or mom will kill you for doing such a boneheaded deed, and then hammer me for allowing you to do it!" Bill frowned, scaring Fred when he thought he saw his mother's eyes in Bill's for a moment...or was it Percy? 

"Well it's not like I did any magic the muggles could detect right?" Fred brushed off his brother's concerns. "Besides, I only hope the 'ol greasy git didn't send us out here for nothing." 

"That's Professor Snape, Fred. You ought to show him a bit more respect." Bill chided. "And the information Professor Snape brings back to us is accurate almost all the time. He checks and re-checks his information as meticulously as he does his potion ingredients, before passing it on the Order. That's a fact you should understand by now, you know how much attention Professor Snape gives to details." Bill paused to stare off into the distance, his cinnamon coloured ponytail blowing behind him in the night air. Although he hoped that things were as calm as they were in Beretaniashire, he paradoxically hoped that the death eaters were indeed attacking muggle villages. That was not because he, as a pure blooded wizard, disliked muggles, but because it would mean grave danger for Professor Snape. False information getting to the order via Hogwarts would surely pinpoint him as a spy, and if Voldemort was ruthless with his minions for even the most minuscule offenses, what would he do to a member willfully engaging in espionage? 

Bill did not want to think about that. 

A factory shut down for the night, prompting Bill and Fred to take cover in an alley nearby as the workers began filing out, looking haggard and worn. From behind a large skip, Bill and Fred watched intently as the muggles went their separate ways. Most disappeared into nearby homes and apartment complexes, while some stopped on the sidewalk to greet one another. 

When a particularly large group of younger muggles loitered near a high picket fence sipping what looked like bottles of butterbeer, Bill became agitated. They needed to get home before the Death Eaters arrived. Seeing that Bill was about to cast a repellent charm, Fred detonated a round of dungbombs in the sewers directly on the opposite end of the street from the gathering. 

"Blimey!" a bearded Muggle wearing a union suit said to the one next to him. "Wot 'ave yer been eatin'?" 

"Wot 'ave I been eatin', isit?" The second man answered, his face contorted so much from the stink that Fred had to stuff a handkerchief into his mouth to keep from erupting into peals of laughter. "Yor the one 'oo passed wind! Struth!" 

"It don't matter wich one of yer farted, I'm gahn 'ome yer blokes!" A third muggle said, his face looking about as green as a shamrock. He threw out his beer, and hurriedly left the corner. 

To Fred and Bill's relief, the other muggles left shortly thereafter. 

**Just in time!**

Laughing so hard, Fred choked on the handkerchief. He fell onto the cobblestones and rolled about, alternately choking and laughing. 

"It's not funny!" Bill scolded, but Fred only laughed harder when he saw that his older brother could hardly keep the stern expression pasted on his own face. 

Just then, Bill and Fred heard faint popping noises on the main street, and gasped when they saw a small group of Death Eaters making their way to houses close to their apparation point. 

"Bill," Fred said, looking at the Death Eaters from behind his big bother. "Do you think He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named would send his more experienced Death Eaters to a remote place like this?" 

"No..." Bill began. 

"GOOD!" Fred grinned mischievously, as he detonated another round of dungbombs in the sewers near the hooded figures. 

Bill shook his head at his brother's antics. He hoped that the other Order members and Aurors were fairing as well, if a bit neater at their posts.

* * *

Professor Severus Snape heard the blunt, grisly sound of Harry's skull impacting the metal bedframe. "Potter!" Genuinely worried, he immediately lifted the frail boy into his arms, then berated himself shortly thereafter with the same zeal he normally reserved for his most dunderheaded students. 

He, of all people, should have understood the dangers of moving a person without first determining the extent of the injuries sustained. Surely this boy, even this arrogant boy, did not deserve further injury from such negligent treatment. 

Severus would have to maintain this position. Stuck carrying the-boy-who-lived in his lap like some fussy infant until Madam Pomfrey, or other help, arrived. He longed to put the boy back onto his bed, or even to place the boy on the floor, but he dared not move him. Severus may not have liked the son of James Potter, but he did not want him more seriously injured, and he surely did not want him dead. 

In normal circumstances, Severus would have used his magic to immobilize the boy, and poured some healing potions down his throat, but his hospital gowns had no pockets into which he could have stowed potions, and because of the Interventio Interferus potion, he could not use his magic either to heal the boy or to summon healing potions for him. 

Severus's thoughts brightened. Surely that meddling busybody Dumbledore would be by to visit them before he retired for the night. He was bound to take Harry off of his hands 

The burning in his arm hindered Severus's thoughts. There was a Death Eater raid scheduled tonight, and it would have already started. He himself had given a report to Dumbledore upon his return from the last meeting to warn The Order of the upcoming attack. Severus sighed, knowing that Headmaster Dumbledore had in all likelihood rallied The Order of the Phoenix, and might have even been leading a counterstrike at this very moment. No chance of Lupin, Hagrid, or McGonagall paying a visit any time soon either, as they were probably fighting alongside the Headmaster. 

Although the Harry Potter was by no means heavy, or even close to being an acceptable weight for his height, the pressure of the boy's body against Severus's own was becoming steadily harder to bear. The burns the chains had left on Severus's legs stung anew, and his bruised chest and side ached all the more as a result of Harry's weight on those areas. 

He'd receive far worse for not answering Voldemort's summons in a timely manner. On a good day, turning up late would earn him a severe punishment at the hands of the other Death Eaters. On a bad day, The Dark Lord would kill him. If he failed to make it to the raid at all on this night, he would be killed...slowly. 

With Harry's head still resting securely in the crook of Severus's right arm, he gingerly palpated the boy's scalp through his coarse, unruly hair with his free hand. He noted that the hair felt a bit softer than it appeared, and seemed to stand on end less than it did in previous years. Oddly enough, it had almost the same texture as Severus's own when he left it without its usual coating of pomade. If Harry were to allow it to grow more, then perhaps... 

Berating himself for even thinking about something as inconsequential as Potter's hair, Severus continued to search for any injuries the railing might have left. 

The Dark Mark burned intermittently, and ever more intensely, as though its flames were being fanned by the winds from a storm system originating in the troposphere of the darkest magic. Severus willingly bore the pain as he continued feeling along Harry's scalp, stopping frequently when his fingers encountered the slight indentations of healed cuts or the resolving swellings from blunt impacts. Rage enveloped the potion master when he determined that the wounds were all at varying stages of healing, indicating regular abuse over the several weeks that Harry had been back at the Dursley's residence. 

Severus shivered involuntarily, remembering with great reluctance that the condition of his scalp during his own school years hadn't been so different. 

Almost like a ritual, young Severus would arrive at the Snape family home. He would immediately put away his trunk and bags, change out of his school uniform, and put on some very absorbent, dark coloured clothing. His father would arrive within the hour and confront the boy about any negative owls the school had sent home during the previous year. His father then would stoutly beat him for each one no matter how minuscule. Severus would normally try not to make a sound, although he would usually fail after paying penance for the third or fourth negative report from the school. 

His outcry, no matter how low in volume or intensity, nearly always resulted in his mother running into the room to 'rescue' him from his father's heavy hand. Ultimately, young Severus would end up attempting to save her from being killed. Afterwards, he'd always tend their injuries, and make healing potions in secret, as he held a cold pack on his throbbing head. His dark, absorbent clothing betraying nothing of the bleeding wounds they concealed. 

It had gone thus for many years, with little or no variation to the vicious routine. The punishment he had received at the end of his fifth year stood out, for it had been more degrading than most. Severus's head of house had sent an owl home regarding that incident in the courtyard where the Marauders had humiliated him after they had sat their O.W.Ls. Because his Head of House received the details of the Marauder's deeds via spectators and bystanders from the Hogwarts gossip mill, the story was largely exaggerated and fictionalized. Lucien Snape refused to listen to Severus's account on the events however, and the punishment he received for not making James Potter and company pay for their cruelty... 

Severus forced himself back from his reverie. James Potter and Sirius Black were long dead, as was Lucien Snape. There was no merit in dwelling on such memories, but why had they suddenly resurfaced? What had triggered them? 

A patch of dampness and matted hair drew Severus's attention. There was a gash on Harry's scalp. Not daring to move from the spot, or to use his magic to accio some gauze, Severus pulled the sheet off of the bed next to them, wadded up a portion of it, and gently pressed it to Harry's head in the hopes of halting the trickle of blood. 

Unbeknownst to Severus, Harry had been fully conscious all along, and was aware of all that what was transpiring. The blow to his head had rendered him extremely dizzy, and only Professor Snape's cold hands seemed to secure him in a room that appeared to rotate as though the entire castle had been placed in a giant centrifuge. 

Harry thought that being in his most despised potion master's arms would be something utterly disgusting. He believed Professor Snape would feel as greasy as his hair looked, and smell of stale perspiration, noxious potion fumes, and unwashed hair. To his surprise, Harry found that his father had very little scent on him at all. All he could detect was the faint smell of soap and medicinal herbs. 

There was something so soothing, and comforting to being held this way. Having no memories of being in an adult's arms before, Harry was sure he would feel great awkwardness, and would have wanted to wriggle away in all haste. 

Harry had no desire whatsoever to do so. He rather enjoyed the feeling of his father stopping the flow of blood from his head as he rested against the man's chest. He was sure his neck would have hurt so much more if the potion master's strong arms weren't supporting him in such a comfortable position. 

Harry opened his mouth to speak, but found he could not form any words. A part of him knew that he ought to let Severus know that he was okay, but another knew if he gave any indication that he was in satisfactory condition, his father would put him on the floor or onto the bed without hesitation. At this moment, there was no place he wanted to be more than in a parent's arms. His father's arms. 

Hoping that Severus wouldn't react unfavourably, Harry shifted his head ever so slightly at the exact moment the man exhaled deeply. His left ear was now nearly over Severus's heart. It was a feeling Harry could never describe, even if he were given five more lifetimes to attempt to do so. The sound of Severus's heart, after hearing it said by many that the man had no heart whatsoever, was a soothing epiphany. More beautiful than a drumbeat played with perfect accuracy to the nanosecond, filling him with more warmth than all the stars in the Andromeda galaxy going nova simultaneously could ever generate. He never wanted to move from this very spot. 

"I doubt very much that you can hear me, Potter," Severus leaned forward as he suddenly spoke, the ends of his hair lightly brushing Harry's cheek. "But I will not tolerate further impertinence from you in he future. Were you not in this condition, and had this been any time between September and June, I would not have hesitated to give you detentions for a month!" 

Harry fought to keep his expression unchanged as he listened as the man's heart started beating at a quicker pace. "Yet..." The man's voice grew tense. "Why did you try to prevent from going to the meeting tonight?" Severus dropped the wadded sheet and checked to see if the bleeding had stopped. Harry almost flinched when Severus's hand brushed over a fresh bruise. "Did you in your arrogant way think that you could change my fate? Did you think that you alone could change the destiny of one who had resigned himself to the life..?" Severus paused when he detected a swelling on Harry's forehead just to the left of his infamous lightning bolt scar. "...and death of one who regularly engaged in espionage? Did you in your pride think you could purchase more days...no years, by saving me? More time for an undeserving spy..?" 

Harry tried to avoid comparing himself with a hapless creature being examined before being processed for the caldron, even though that was how he felt under Severus's careful ministrations. He was determined more than ever now to build not only a working relationship with his father, but a relationship of mutual respect, need, and perhaps love. He would start by healing his father's physical wounds after Madam Pomfrey returned them back to their beds.

* * *

Hermione Granger had been studying for so long, that the words she had read in her text seemed to have lost their contentment with merely residing on paper, and were now floating just centimetres from her eyes. Even though she looked away from her tome, the words pursued her line of sight and floated before her even as she stared at the wall on the far side of her room. 

As always, she had lost track of time, studying from early that morning, only stopping to eat, relieve herself and bathe. It was now long past nightfall, and she realized that he wasn't truly retaining much of the new materials she read. Sighing, Hermione put her books back into her school trunk and patted Crookshanks as he lay on her bed nearby. She crooned softly to him, and all he did was raise his head and meow as though he were replying in his own feline language. 

Hermione realized that there was once again no one to talk to. Her thoughts wandered to the telephone for a moment, before she remembered that Ron Weasley had no phone, and Harry had no access to any of the phones in the Dursley home. It was probably too late to call anyone besides. She made a note to herself to send Harry and Ron owls later on, and to make sure they were keeping up with their school work. She rolled her eyes, Harry and Ron were so complacent when it came to their studies. 

She walked into the hall so see if her parents were still around, but judging from her father's snores, and her mother's frequent "Really, dear! I can't get to sleep with your snoring! I recommend you fashion an oral prosthetic to..." Hermione concluded that her parents had retired for the night one or two hours ago. 

Not wanting to retire just yet, Hermione made her way downstairs, her light blue nightdress billowing about her as she descended. She had neither brushed, nor made any attempt whatsoever at taming her brown mane when she washed it earlier, and it appeared to have doubled in volume over the past few hours. 'Bushy' would no longer be the word to describe it now, as it bore a closer resemblance to well-teased 70s style Afro. She reached into her mother's vanity drawers and found a pair elastic bands, which she used to fix her hair into two shaggy braids. Hermione could not be bothered with attempting to do more at this hour of the night. 

After helping herself to a pint of premium suger-free cookie dough ice cream, and a can of sugar-free cola, Hermione flopped onto the sofa in the living room, and summoned the remote control for the telly. Being who she was, she could not bring herself to watch the reruns of situation comedies, talk shows, or late night variety shows which virtually all of the networks aired at that time of day. Instead, Hermione switched it on to a twenty four hour news channel and sat back to eat her ice cream. 

A news anchor, who wore such thick glasses that he looked like a bug, appeared on the screen. "We have some breaking news to report." The scene changed to show a busy street in muggle London with strangely robed figures randomly appearing among the crowd. "Reports of robed vigilante groups duelling in the streets have been pouring in throughout the evening from all over the United Kingdom." 

Hermione nearly choked on a spoonful of ice cream. "Is everyone completely disregarding the magical code of conduct?" Hermione muttered to herself as she chugged her cola. "Being seen in the streets like that...the Wizarding World will be exposed by daybreak." 

"We bring you now to Pompous Windbagg in Beretaniashire. Pompous?" The Newscaster went on. 

Hermione lost her appetite instantaneously when she saw the scene behind the newscaster. There were no less than eight **St. Mary Sewage ** trucks along the street. People were everywhere, either laying unconscious on the pavement, or else vomiting into nearby trash bins. Hermione gaped at the sight of two robed figures with white masks laying several paces away from the reporter. Even the reporter spoke as though he were desperately attempting not to inhale through his nose. "The peace of the unassuming town of Beretaniashire was disturbed this evening by a mysterious odour. Officials blame it on a break in the sewer lines and ..." 

The news anchor at the studio, obviously expecting a report on masked vigilantes, seemed momentarily taken aback somewhat to hear report on a mysterious stench. At the sight of a Hazardous Material van pulling up next to the sewage trucks, the remote news crew moved in, and the anchor pressed the reporter on scene for more information. The reporter then looked for people to interview. 

"Wen I said this tahn needed an enema, right," an elderly woman spoke into the reporter's microphone."I didn't mean for everybody in the bloody 'oole tahn ter give themselves enemas all at once. It stinks! Blimey!" 

Behind the news crew, Hermione thought she saw two robed figures with bright red hair receding into the darkness. She rolled her eyes, she might have guessed that at least one of the twins had been involved. She wasn't sure which one, as Fred and George were identical down to the last freckle. Her analytically inclined brain switched into overdrive and she immediately concluded that the Voldemort's troops must have been carrying out raids tonight. One or both of the twins must have been sent to Beretaniashire to lead a counterattack, and because nothing can change the inherent mischievous nature of a Weasley twin, tools from the joke shop must have been employed. Probably dungbombs in this case. 

Because the news crew in Beretaniashire seemed so focussed on the stench, while completely ignoring the wizarding folk, Hermione reasoned that the Weasleys must have placed charms on them . The scene on the television gave new meaning to the term 'media frenzy.' The reporters and camera crew, along with another network's crew who arrived shortly thereafter, either wrestled their way into the sewage drains or else begged the sewage crew members for interviews. 

Although she longed to phone the St. Mary Sewage corporation to inform them that there really was no sewage mishap and that the smell would subside as soon as the fumes from the dungbombs cleared, she didn't want to seem suspicious. The smell would resolve within a few hours anyway. 

Hermione dropped her cola to the floor as a new realization dawned on her. As the network switched to yet another location showing masked and robed figures running in and out of the scene, while the news crew on site reported on something as inconsequential as an unusual increase in the local rat population, Hermione knew that memory and attention charms were not effective on viewers watching the live reports from home. The viewers watching the reports all across Britain, and Internationally, would notice the strange occurrences for sure. 

Hermione knew she may have been watching the end of the wizarding world's secret existence. Voldemort and the Death Eaters, either through extreme carelessness, or perhaps with great intention, were making their presence known. 

And feared.

* * *

Harry was not sure how much time had passed. He hadn't even realized that he had fallen asleep, and was momentarily disoriented. All he could see was darkness with beams of resurgent moonlight filtering through the high windows. 

He had been awakened by a soft snore coming from just above him. Looking up, Harry could barely distinguish his father's pale face from the surrounding darkness of both the night and the man's hair. His obsidian eyes were closed in a fitful slumber, darting under his pale lids as though attempting to watch many frightening occurrences simultaneously. The man's head was bent over as he rested, his face not more than a few centimetres from Harry's own. The ends of the man's hair brushed lightly against his face. 

The comfort Harry felt upon realizing that he was still safely enveloped in his father's arms was immense beyond all methods of description. The accompanying sound of his father's heartbeat was the very embodiment of what could only be described as heavenly music. No, not even heavenly music would be a just comparison. Not even every angel's harp playing simultaneously could instill the same feeling in Harry's soul that the sound of his father's heartbeat could. 

Being right here, right in this moment was to be truly home. Harry felt as though he had spent twenty lifetimes in purgatory with no hope of a better judgement or release. Even his years in Hogwarts seemed little more than a cooling breeze through his hair as the flames in his purgatory continued to lick at his flesh ravenously. He was finally freed; his father's warm body, his delicate heartbeat, and his surprisingly gentle hands gave Harry a sense of belonging he had never known. A peace that had never existed for him, embraced him fully now. Harry was home, and he never wanted to depart again. 

Harry couldn't help but admire his father's incredible discipline. Even though Severus was weakened from injury and his body was shaking with exhaustion, the arm supporting Harry's head hadn't moved an iota. It was almost as though Severus kept just a small part of his mind awake to be sure he would adequately support Harry's head and prevent him from being injured further. 

Severus groaned softly in his sleep, and Harry noticed that his left arm was trembling. He could almost feel a dark heat from beneath the man's white sleeve as his arm lay draped over Harry's chest. "How dare Voldemort!" Harry thought with a rage he didn't know he possessed. "Voldemort put father in this state. Tortured him until he could hardly walk and now The Dark Lord has the nerve to expect Father to crawl back to him just because he wills it? Bloody hell! The man's hurt!" Harry was shaking now, but willed himself to stop for fear of rousing his father. 

In the past, Harry only resigned himself to his fate of battling Voldemort because it was expected of him to do so. That day in Dumbledore's office, when the prophecy was revealed to him, only reinforced the expectations he felt from many in the wizarding world. Voldemort and he would ultimately battle, and only one of them would survive. That was what was expected of him. And he was expected to win because he was on the side of the light. That is what he was sure even his closest friends expected. It was what his teachers and Dumbledore expected. He was sure that even Professor Snape, expected it. 

Yet would Severus Snape, the man who was Harry's sire, expect that of him? Granted, he might expect it, but would he allow it if he knew? Could a father knowingly send his own son to his potential demise? Sure a father COULD do that, but would HIS father, Severus Snape, do it? 

All of his years at Hogwarts passed through his mind in a split second. Although Professor Snape supposedly disliked Harry throughout those years, not once had he ever done anything to cause him harm. Indeed, Professor Snape had harmed his pride, but never more. And Professor Snape had saved his life time and again. 

Harry was more than determined to return the favour. He knew that Snape had to have been in pain with all the injuries he still had. Harry had suffered greater pain from lesser wounds. Snape would not suffer any longer. Harry tentatively raised his wand had and motioned towards the wand still laying beside his pillow. 

Not wanting to awaken Snape, Harry whispered: "Accio..." 

"Potter!" Snape interrupted the incantation. The man's voice was still heavy with sleep, and his eyes reflected that state tenfold. Yet his right arm held it's position undaunted. 

"Fa-Professor Snape," Harry said, faking the most pained expression he felt would not be construed as going overboard. 

"You are in no condition to even attempt wandless magic!" Professor Snape scolded silkily. "Are you so vain that you fail to see that?" 

"Like you're so vain that you refused Madam Pomfrey's healings? Like you're so vain you won't even drink a healing potion?" the words came out of Harry's mouth before he could stop them. 

If Professor Snape hadn't been so weak and exhausted, Harry was sure that his father would have hurled him a diatribe to rival the best he had ever heard, or would ever hear even if he lived longer than Headmaster Dumbledore. Instead, Snape stared daggers at Harry. In fact, he stared so intensely, and so long, that Harry felt that Snape were staring the contents of an entire cutlery cupboard, an assortment of samurai swords, and a few American-made hunting knives thrown-in-for-good-measure at him. "It is not your concern as to why I haven't been healed. You would do well to concentrate on your own convalescence, Potter!" 

"Yes sir," Harry lowered his eyes in contrition, Severus's words stinging more than they ever had before. "I'm sorry...fa-Professor." 

Professor Snape merely nodded. To Harry's relief, the man made no move to put him either onto a bed or on the floor. At least not yet. "How are you feeling, Potter?" 

"Quite sore," Harry answered with a forced wince, but the words he spoke were entirely true. "How are you feeling, sir?" 

As Harry half anticipated, Snape ignored the question. "Then I dare not move you just yet, not until Madam Pomfrey ascertains the safety in doing so." 

Harry caught himself a fraction of a second before he nodded, therby giving away his purposeful malingering. "Yes sir. I just...I just want to thank you, Professor Snape." 

"Potter, you may be a grandiloquent twit, but I'm only doing what anyone else would have done if they were in similar circumstances." Professor Snape said scathingly. 

Harry was about to argue that Snape had saved him more times than all of the other teachers combined had, but he did not want to vex Snape any further. Instead, Harry just stared deeply into his father's eyes, searching for a vestige of his grieving father somewhere beyond the hollow gaze. 

Severus averted his eyes as though he had been staring for too long into the sun. Ordinarily, he was unbeatable in staring contests, and frequently put the Marauders and other students to shame whenever anyone dared challenge him. Yet if Harry were to challenge, he'd lose before the referee signalled the contest's start. Those eyes were so much like Lily's...and a certain green eyed angel somewhere on the fringes of his memories. The angel who had appeared in his dreams...as well as while he was awake. Even though Harry looked like James, he possessed eyes identical to the preborn angel. 

'No,' Severus chided himself inwardly. 'That angel never existed. There are ghosts, there are premonitions and other supernatural phenomena, but there are no preborn spirits...or were there? There are no preborn spirits...then what did I see all those years ago?' 

The turmoil played across his father's face like a refrain so resonant that Harry could hear every haunting note. What was troubling him so much? Why did father look everywhere except directly in his eyes? Was he in a greater amount of pain then he let on, and was too afraid of it showing in his face? Surely the Dark Mark hurt as badly as a welder's torch applied to the skin, and Harry cowered every time he thought about the rest of the unhealed injuries he had seen on Snape's body. 

"Potter," Snape asked, still avoiding Harry's gaze as he applied the makeshift compress to another cut on Harry's head. "Why did you try and stop me earlier?" 

"What do you mean, sir?" Harry asked, secretly enjoying his father's attentions, having never had anything but Aunt Petunia's rough combing before. 

Severus clutched a lock of unruly hair and let out an exasperated breath. "Surely your memory isn't that short? I am referring to your stopping me from leaving the infirmary? Why did you feel the need to do that?" 

Harry searched his mind for an excuse that sounded remotely believable. Although it had been said that the truth was usually best, Harry was unsure in this case. "I did it because Madam Pomfrey said you're not allowed to leave the hospital wing." 

"Rubbish!" Snape tugged on one of Harry's locks a little to hard for it to be enjoyable. "You, some one who breaks rules whenever it suits you, would have me believe that?" Snape realized what he was doing and released Harry's hair immediately. 

Harry decided on another approach. "All right, all right! I tried to keep you from leaving because you can hardly walk, and you'd probably fall and sprain your ankle...or...or... bump your head or something? And then Madam Pomfrey would have a much harder job of sorting you out." 

Severus looked at Harry as though he had just tried to tell him that Dumbledore was really the offspring of a centaur and a chimpanzee and had all the powers of an average squib. "Potter! Do you take me for a fool?" 

"No sir." Defeated, Harry decided to be as truthful as he possibly could without risking either of their lives further. "I would never think of you as a fool , Professor Snape. And the reason I tried to stop you tonight...is because...because I really don't want you to get hurt anymore." 

Either Severus was too shocked to speak, or else he didn't believe a single word Harry said. He simply stared at Harry with is dark eyes wide. Harry decided to continue. "My scar connects me to Voldemort...I saw what he made the Death Eaters do to you." 

"Y-you saw?" Snape paled. "H-ow m-much?" 

Harry had never expected to hear the present Severus stammer before, but he decided to press on anyway. If his father wanted the truth, he would give it to him in spades. "I saw everything until Mr. Bacterian started using the pressurized water hose on you. You were suffering so much. I couldn't stand to watch after that. And...and I don't want you hurt like that again." Harry felt the beginnings of tears in his eyes, but Snape didn't see them because he was looking away. "You may not like me, and I may not have liked you before, but I care about you enough that I don't want you to be hurt again." 

Harry noticed that the words flowed easier now that he had firmly laid the foundation for them. . "I care about you, sir! I care what happens to you! And I don't want you hurt ever again! Is that so hard for you to believe? You're a very intelligent man, so you'd better understand this: I ACTUALLY GIVE A DAMN ABOUT YOU!" 

Severus Snape went so pale, it appeared that his very blood had congealed. 

End Part Eight 


	9. The War Within

**Remembrance and Renewal** by **Avatar Arkmage ** and **Nigel Tatsuya**

Chapter Nine: **The War Within**

Harry braced himself. If Severus was in total shock at Harry's proclamation, he expected to be dropped to the floor. If Severus were angry however, Harry knew he would be thrown to the floor. 

To Harry's bafflement, he remained securely in Severus's arms. The only shadow of movement from his father being a barely perceptible shudder coursing through his body, stopping short of the man's right arm. Harry's uninjured neck and shoulders remained stationary, prompting the youth to marvel even more at his father's incredible control. 

"Potter! You...you.." but the rest of what Snape had intended to say died against his soft palate. 

"It's true, sir." Harry, seeing a safe passage, ventured onward, employing his most casual, yet respectful tone. "We may never have got on before, but I don't want you to die, Professor Snape. I don't want you hurt either." 

Severus's mouth moved, but no words issued forth. 

"I didn't think you would believe me. I wouldn't believe me either, as least not straightway given all the trouble I've caused over the years. And perhaps you've stopped believing that any one could care about you, Professor Snape. Well, I do." 

Severus no longer found the space directly in front of him interesting, and judiciously turned his attention fully on Harry. He expected not to see even an iota if sincerity in those eyes, for this was perhaps the most ostentatious individual since James Potter to cross his path. This was, after all, the son of James Potter. 

Yet, Severus thought, this is also the son of Lily Evans. Harry's green eyes reminded him of that fact more resolutely than any degree of logical reasoning ever could. His beloved Lily. And what Severus saw in her son's eyes, was the same unblemished forthrightness he had so often seen in Lily's. 

It was curious, the boy's eyes looked different somehow. Older perhaps? More mature? Could it be that he looked drastically different without his glasses? 

Severus was in awe at how much of the room's faint light was reflected in those eyes. Wait. Were those tears? It must be that the boy is in an exceeding quantity of pain. Or perhaps the boy is simply tired? Or his eyes might strained as a result of his accursed habit of staring?' 

"Besides, you did save my life. Many times over." Harry went on, his gaze unfaltering. "I should at least try to return the favour, shouldn't I?" 

"Potter, I will reiterate, since you seem to need things repeated to you for your brain to even absorb a fraction of the information." Severus had found his voice. "I did no more than Lupin, McGonagall, Hagrid, or even Professor Dumbledore would have done. It was certainly not a favour to you, and no gratitude on your part is warranted." 

"Yes, sir." The ensuing silence, brief though it was, made Harry so uncomfortable that he quickly found another matter to discuss. "That day when my broom was being cursed in my first year, well, you didn't have to risk your life by muttering the countercurse, did you? I mean, Professor Quirrell, he wasn't very far from you, and so was Voldemort..." 

"Do not say his name, dunderhead!" 

"Okay, okay, sorry, Professor Snape. But what I meant to say, is that you could have ignored it all. Or you could have told some one else that Quirrell was hexing my broom, but you didn't. You uttered the countercurse on your own." 

"Potter, had I known of your desire to fall from your broom, I would have been all too happy to oblige." Snape retorted, wondering why the infernal boy insisted on holding a conversation at all. "Besides, I hardly thought your spattered innards would improve the appearance of the Quidditch Pitch." 

"You didn't have to save me yourself." Harry protested. "Weren't you worried about Quirrell sitting so close to you? Voldemort could have..." 

"Do not speak his name!" 

"Oh, oh of course, the Dark Lord then." Harry corrected himself. "He could have killed you outright! You could have told some one else to.." 

"As I've said before, the spattered remnants of your internal organs would not have improved the aesthetical value of the Quidditch pitch." Severus said through his clenched yellow teeth. "In the time it would take to inform some one else, and for them to act, you would have plunged to your death." 

"That does not make me any less grateful for what you did." Harry stated. "And what about the time you tried to save me from Lupin when he was a werewolf? Did you have to save me then?" 

"Potter, I refuse to believe that even you could be so daft!" Snape's customary sneer found its way back to his face. "If Lupin had attacked you, Weasley and Granger, you'd either have died, or else I'd be expected to brew thrice the normal amount of Wolfsbane potions each month." 

Although Harry knew that he ought to feel hurt, or at least disappointed at Snape's reasoning, he laughed inwardly. It took a great quantity of sheer willpower just to avoid cracking a grin. The explanations, seemed too absurd to come from Professor Snape; a man who was expected to make false statements almost daily as part of his profession. Who could lie better than a spy, after all? 

Harry took a moment to savour the warmth of his father's chest rising and falling against his side once more. The precious, soothing heartbeat within, seemed to have increased in speed ever so slightly. "You stood up for me to Cornelius Fudge..." 

"I wanted to shock him more than 'stand up for you,' " Snape replied so rapidly that it seemed as though he had prepared beforehand for that very question. "He could not continue to lead the magical world into believing that you were merely seeking attention! The Dark Lord's return needed to be acknowledged." 

"And it was you who followed Hermione, Professor Umbridge and me into the Forbidden Forest earlier this year." Harry recommenced. 

Severus exhaled grumpily. "Had any of the creatures of the Forbidden Forest decided to make meals out of you three, Hagrid would be in the dungeons for weeks thereafter asking for potions to treat the creatures suffering from gastric disturbances! That is assuming that your big head hadn't become lodged in the creature's throat and caused its death outright!" 

"Wouldn't Umbridge have poisoned the creature who ate her, though?" Harry succumbed to laughter as he spoke. "She was a bit toad-like after all." 

Harry thought he saw the beginnings of a smile on his father's face. His obsidian eyes twinkled almost imperceptibly and the edges of his mouth curved moderately upward. "As much as you have been led to believe that Professor Dolores Umbridge is member of the family Bufonidae, I can assure you that she is indeed human." 

Neither exchanged words for the next few minutes. The Dark Mark continued to burn intermittently on Snape's forearm, and Harry could feel the fluctuation in heat through his father's sleeves. He could not believe that the Dark Lord had the audacity to continue calling Severus, even after several hours must have passed. Surely the Dark Lord wasn't so obtuse as to think that Snape was merely stalling. After almost twenty years of service to him, shouldn't the Dark Lord have known better? If Severus did not turn up for a Death Eater meeting, wouldn't it be obvious that he was UNABLE to do so? It was he who ordered his Death Eaters to punish Severus to the point of almost crippling him, so what the hell did Voldemort expect? 

Worried that Severus might have been spying on his thoughts, Harry quickly cleared his mind. Believing that one cannot practice legillimency whilst engaged in conversation, Harry tried once more. "Fa-Uh, Professor Snape?" 

"What, Potter?" 

"Are you okay sir? You've been holding me like this for hours, are you feeling uncomfortable?" 

"Potter, even when I'm merely in the same room with you, you have the tendency to make me uncomfortable!" said Professor Snape, still holding fast. Harry noticed that Snape's voice completely lacked malice. 

"It was you wasn't it?" Harry tapped his father's hand. Harry could see that Severus wanted to pull away, but his hand was connected to the arm holding him. "You were the one who told the order about my life at the Dursleys wasn't it?" 

"You're babbling again, Potter. You ought to learn to articulate yourself in more effective ways." Snape made a respectable attempt to snarl, but the endeavour fell light years short of the normal standards one would expect from Snape. 

"Professor Snape, it was you who told The Order about how the Dursleys treated me, wasn't it?" 

"Exactly what led you to believe that?" 

"When I stepped away from the Hogwarts's Express at the end of last school year, Moody, Tonks and Lupin were at the station." Harry said. "They warned the Dursleys not to mistreat me, and said they'd check on me if they heard nothing for three days." 

"Your point?" Severus appeared to be contemplating all available methods to free his hand from Harry's without risking further injury to the boy. 

"You saved me again, didn't you?" Harry watched his father's face grow redder as he brushed against the older man's supple fingers. "It was you who informed the order about my life with the Dursleys." 

"Who told you..?" Snape uncharacteristically blurted out. "What I meant to say is, on what grounds do you base that assumption?" 

"During Occlumency, you saw all those things that happened to me at the Dursleys." Harry averted his eyes. "I never told anyone about them. Ron and Hermione knew I didn't enjoy spending summers at Number Four Privet Drive, but I've never told them just how bad things were with my Aunt and Uncle. Not even Dumbledore knew." 

"Why on Earth not?" 

"I was too ashamed to tell them." 

"Foolish boy!" 

"Professor Snape, would you have told your friends that your own family, people who are supposed to care for and love you, beat you?" Harry struggled to keep his tone respectful, knowing that he could very well be talking about Snape as well as himself. "If they forced you live in a dark cupboard under their stairs for years? If you had lived with a cousin, who should have loved you like a brother, who bullied you, would you have told Dumbledore?" 

The dour potions master's face remained largely unchanged, but Harry did not miss the microgesture Severus's memories caused. 

"What if your own father beat you with his belt, would you have told Dumbledore?" 

"Enough!" Severus hissed. "Your point, Potter?" 

"Until you informed Professor Lupin, Tonks and Mad-Eye Moody about how the Dursleys treated me, no one else knew. It must be that you saw it in my memories, and you informed the others so they would watch over me." 

"One should feel safe in their own home." Severus whispered, his expression somewhat distant and forlorn. His cold expression returned shortly thereafter. "Potter, I'm utterly exhausted. I suggest you attempt to sleep as well, it is late, and it might be a considerable length of time before Madam Pomfrey, or someone else, sees to us." 

Harry knew better to protest. The simple fact that Professor Snape had not insulted him, bunged him to the floor, or hexed him was enough for now. "Okay sir, good night." And Harry closed his eyes, feeling strangely secure to be in his father's arms at last.

* * *

The magical hostilities continued throughout the United Kingdom as the night wore on. In the Muggle World, mass hysteria ran amock, as images of robed vigilantes played across their tellies, to the seemingly blind eyes of the very reporters broadcasting them. 

Minister Cornelius Fudge could no longer deny the magnitude of the carnage, and Voldemort's return to power. The presses at the Daily Prophet released special editions roughly every hour, each chronicling several new attacks. The reports of fatalities in the houses of half-blood and muggle born wizards rose exponentially with each special edition printed, and the violence just seemed to escalate. 

"George!" Ron called, as he crawled from the grate in Weasley's Wizard Wheezes. "Mum said you're to close the books and come home straightaway. 

"Tell mum, no!" George retorted. "She knows very well that Fred and I have our own flat upstairs. We'll visit The Burrow some other time." 

"George!" not bothering to brush off all the suit, Ron seized his older brother's arm, "Don't you know what's happening? He-who-must-not-be-named's forces are in the Diagon Alley, it said so in the latest issue of the Daily Prophet! 

"Go on then," George pushed Ron back toward the fireplace. "Off you go." 

"George! Mum's going to kill me if we don't go home right now." Ron implored. 

"All right then!" George said, keying open a safe and putting what appeared to be gold galleons on the counter. "Since either mum's going to kill us, or else the Death Eaters coming here will, let's prove to them that us Weasleys aren't going without a fight." 

"Are you daft!" Ron gasped, his blue eyes widening. 

"Come on!" George said, pushing Ron outside, and securing the doors to the shop. "This will be fun!" 

George slipped the "galleons" into his pocket, and walked directly into the path of a group of advancing Death Eaters, yanking Ron along with him. George then pretended to panic, while Ron did indeed panic. The two boys took off running in the opposite direction of the Death Eaters, but not before George scattered the galleons on the pavement, making it look as though he had dropped the lot in a frenzy to get away. 

Being familiar with the streets, George and Ron lost the masked figures after running for a few blocks, and took refuge in a garbage skip. 

"Bloody Hell!" Ron rasped, recognising the austere gait of one of the figures, and seeing wisps pale blond hair periodically appearing from beneath the hood. "That's Malfoy's dad! How did he escape from Azkaban?" 

"Perhaps You-Know-Who helped him escape? Or maybe he turned himself into a serpent and slithered out? Who cares about that slimy git anyway? This will be great!" George grinned to his younger brother. 

As predicted, some of the Death Eaters stopped and gathered up the gold galleons. Lucius Malfoy, who Ron concluded needed more gold like Arthur Weasley needed a pet Buffalo, merely walked over the galleons. 

From their vantage point in the malodorous skip, George quickly drew his wand, waved it in the direction of the Death Eaters, and muttered an incantation just as Malfoy's boot came in contact with one of the galleons. The Death Eaters, along with the galleons vanished. 

"Portkeys! That was bloody brilliant!" Ron gave George a firm pat on the back. 

"They aren't true portkeys." George chortled. "We'd get in trouble with the Department of Magical Transportation if they were. The Galleon-Ship is one of our inventions, actually. Like portkeys, they transport its victim anywhere they've been charmed to, but they don't have the range that a true portkey has. The Galleon-Ship can't transport the victim more than fifty kilometres from the original location. We're still working on that bit." 

"Wicked!" said Ron, as the brothers headed back toward the shop. "Do you have some for sale by any chance?" 

"Do you have any money by any chance?" George mocked. "No they aren't for sale just yet, we still haven't worked out all the dangerous side effects. Even though those gits deserve it, I hope they don't turn out splinched like those poor students who first tested this product." 

Ron gagged at the thought of random body parts amid bloodied white masks, and black cloaks. 

George grinned smugly. "I didn't avoid following Fred to Beretaniashire for nothing." 

Ron continued to stare into the now empty alley. There was no blood on the cobblestones at least. "So where have they gone? Knockturn Alley?" 

"No." George was now barely suppressing giggles. 

"The dodgy side of London?" Ron asked. 

"Worse." 

Ron's eyes widened, as did his mouth. 

"I sent them...I sent..." George exploded into peals of laugher. "I sent them to Redneyckby!" 

"Redneycksby?" Ron asked, furrowing his brows, he had never heard of such a place. 

"It's a neighbourhood outside of London settled by Muggles called the Redneycks." George wrapped his arms across his belly as the laughter exploded from him in full force. "Fred told me that the muggles in Redneycksby are holding their annual Ms Riding Mower beauty pageant today. I've heard that the Redneyck women are bigger than their men!" 

Ron's brows furrowed even more. What was a Riding Mower? It sounded like something the mythical Grim Reaper would use on a day he had too many people to fetch, and would be in danger of becoming fatigued. 

"If I activated the Galleon-Ship correctly, Malfoy Sr. and his friends should be backstage at the Ms Riding Mower competition..." George fell over and rolled at the bottom of the skip laughing. "...in the female body builder section!" 

"The Redneycks built their bodies? They aren't born like the rest of us?" Ron looked even more puzzled. 

"That's what Fred told me! The redneycks must be a race of eclectric people, imagine how much fun dad would have collecting plugs for their bodies! I'm sure since ecelectric things need ecceltricity, the redneycks probably plug themselves in instead of sleeping at night. " Fred began laughing so hard that tears wobbled in his eyes. "I would kill to see Mr. Malfoy at the body builder factory though, perhaps he will return to Malfoy Mansion with some female body parts!" George chortled. "Imagine him trying to explain that to Mrs. Malfoy!" 

Ron joined George at the bottom of the skip. The thought of Lucius Malfoy at the mercy of Narcissa with armfuls of female body parts was too funny. 

"Remember how dad fought with Malfoy Sr. in Flourish and Blotts?" George said between giggles. "I don't think Mrs. Malfoy will go nearly as gentle with him as dad did!" 

"God job Draco's mum isn't a Redneyck then!" Ron remarked.

* * *

The brewing of some potions was so second nature to Professor Severus Snape, that he hardly thought on them. He reached for ingredients behind him blindly, and added them to the caldrons, often without even needing to weigh them on scales beforehand. So much in this way did he spend many of his quiet evenings; his motions light, his spell casting tasks no more burdensome than to draw a breath. 

But there was something different about this night. 

"Severus!" 

Disoriented, and having no control over his body, Severus spun on his heel and saw the silhouette of a woman at the entrance to his laboratory. Her face was in shadow, but the light from a nearby torch illuminated distinct red highlights in her hair. 

"Lily?" As though watching the life of another man, Severus felt himself hastily extinguish the fire beneath the great pewter caldron and follow the retreating woman up to the main level of Snape Manor. Why did he put aside his duties so readily? What compelled him to answer Lily's beckoning in a manner more befitting of a beta-male animal, conditioned to submit to his alpha's every whim? 

Along the way, Severus recognised the sweet smell of pasties cooking in one of those muggle cookers which employed electromagnetic waves. He vaguely remembered arguing with Lily over the cooker's purchase, for he initially did not believe eating foods cooked with microwave radiation was entirely safe. The taste, ease of food preparation, and the fact that he could brew some potion ingredients more quickly than he could otherwise, quelled his misgivings shortly thereafter. Moreover, they were still alive after over ten years of dining regularly on electromagnetic wave foods. What muggle inventors could create without the use of magic still astounded Severus after many years of living with a Muggle-born wife. 

He stopped cold in the living room. There, snoring softly on a settee in front of the fireplace, was a thin teenaged boy, laying amid amid parchments, quills and two large tomes opened to pages containing the descriptions of complex potions. His long, slightly-greasy black hair partially obscured the aquiline features of his face, and luminesced ginger in the firelight. The youth's pale skin was almost as colourless as Severus's, as though he never ventured out into the sunlight. 

"Put our son to bed, love, he fell asleep whilst doing his revisions again," came Lily's voice. 

Still feeling out of sorts, and at the same time feeling that things were strangely as they ought to be, Severus's reply of, "I'll wake him and order him to his bed," faded into the background of his thoughts. He carefully lifted the teenager into his arms, deciding that he would lecture the boy about better managing his time, and of retiring before exhaustion set in. 

But that could wait until a later time. 

White hot pain exploded from Severus's left forearm as he began to ascend the stairs. The heat startled the sleeping boy awake, his verdant eyes wide with horror. 

The walls and floor of Snape Manor began to fracture, and morphed into the dark flagstones of the dungeons. Masked figures walked through the larger fissures that had appeared in the wall, and Voldemort apparated directly in front of Severus. He grabbed at the youth with his cadaverous fingers. 

"NO!" cried Severus. 

He turned an ran in the opposite direction, but Voldemort repeatedly appeared in front of Severus, blocking his escape route. Severus kept running anyway, until he nearly collided with a solid stone wall. There was no escape. 

"SNAPE!" Voldemort hissed, "you ssshant esscape me again!" 

The Death Eaters rose into the air, and descended on Severus from all sides. Each of them clawed and snapped at Harry, the Animalia potion's influence markedly evident. Willfully, Severus turned his back to them, bearing their fury with his own flesh. Now that his angel was somehow with him, and perfectly alive, Severus knew he would give his own life if that was the price he would have to pay to keep the angel living. 

Voldemort reached around the slender man and forcefully made to pull the youth from his arms. Having no means of escape, and being in too close proximity to effectively cast spells, Severus clutched the boy protectively in his arms. 

It was most unusual. The youth looked surprised, rather than frightened, even as Severus wrapped his arms more securely around his son, as much as to protect him from Voldemort as to selfishly keep him from death. No, not so much death, as to keep him from fading back into oblivion. 

"Owwwwww!" The teenaged boy yelped. 

The youth's long hair began to decrease in length, and jut in every direction but orderly. As Severus watched, his son's sallow skin developed a more rosy cast, and his green eyes became the very similar green eyes of Harry Potter. Potter! 

As consciousness quickly reasserted its place, Severus realised with horror that he had been constricting Harry Potter! "Potter!" Severus loosened his grip so quickly that he almost dropped Harry to the floor. 

Harry blearily remembered a dream where Severus had been attacked by the Death Eaters. He also remembered that Severus had been holding him in a similar manner. 

Harry then noted that Severus's eyes looked markedly redder than normal, and there were tears clinging to the man's thick, dark lashes. "What's the matter? Professor Snape, what's wrong? Are you in pain or something?" 

"An irritating substance lodged itself in my eyes." Severus retorted angrily, rubbing at his eyes with his free hand. "And you need not add your irritating chatter to make this situation worse, go back to sleep, boy!" 

"Okay, I'm tired anyhow." Harry lied, not daring to challenge Severus. He did not go back to sleep however, and watched Severus discretely through his nearly closed eyes. For added effect, Harry began feign the sounds of soft snoring a few minutes thereafter. 

When Severus believed Harry was sleeping once more, he turned his face toward the ceiling. His dark eyes scanned the room, and his lower lip trembled, before Severus clamped on it with his yellowing teeth. "Why?" Severus whispered, barely audibly. "Why torment me with things I can never have? Why show me what never existed? Bloody fool!" 

It required all of Harry's willpower not to intrude on Severus's hushed conversation with himself. When Harry had heard enough of Severus's self-loathing diatribe, he took a deep breath to speak.

* * *

The Dark Lord Voldemort caressed Nagini's coils absently as he watched Bellatrix Black Lestrange instruct three of the newest Death Eaters in the finer methods of torture. They had attacked a newlywed couple in small flat just outside of Leeds, and although Bellatrix was in top form this night, Lord Voldemort could not give his full attention to the festivities. 

"Please!" screamed the young wife, her light brown curls flailing about her head as he struggled against her bonds. "Let us go! We've done nothing to you!" 

Bellatrix moved so close to the bound woman that she was sure the woman could feel her breath on her ashen face. "On the contrary, you have indeed done something, muggle-filth! You exist!" 

The woman screamed as Bellatrix moved across the room to the woman's husband who was tied spread-eagled to their marital bed. She leaned over the young man, her attractive, dark locks spilling onto his face. "Your kind has done too much." Bellatrix began unbuttoning the man's shirt, being so rough about it that some of his buttons shot like small projectiles off of the garment. "Although we're supposedly the same species, your muggle reproductive prowess allows the lot of you to breed like insects, or lagomorphs in comparison." 

"NO!" screeched the blond haired man as Bellatrix began to undo her new husband's belt buckle. He shifted away from her grasp but was immediately immobilized by the other three hooded figures. 

"My wife and I, we have no children of our own! How can you say..." 

"Fear not, blondie."Bellatrix derided, slapping him first across one cheek and then the other. "When we conclude our work here tonight, you'll not be siring any more filthy whelps... even if we feel charitable enough to let you live!" Bellatrix motioned the three Death Eaters recruits nearby to take their turns with the couple. "Choose your targets wisely, young charges. The area and method selected must neither cause a quick death nor fatigue you too quickly. 

Bellatrix paused briefly and cast the cruciatus on the bound man, then lifted it less than two seconds later. The man continued to scream for at least several minutes afterwards. "Although the cruciatus curse is most effective at causing pain, it is taxing on the caster and can result in your victim not giving you the information you seek...:" 

"BUT YOU ASKED US NOTHING!" screamed the man, struggling so hard against his bindings that his wrists and ankles started bleeding. 

"Then I ask you to refrain from speaking without having first been asked to!" Bellatrix hissed in the man's ear. "Or I shall remove your tongue." 

The young Death Eaters surveyed the bound man's bare body in the same manner as a pack of carnivores would a fresh kill. The man's wife screamed without ceasing, but it had the same effect as if she'd only whispered. She remained tied in the corner of their master bedroom watching the macabre festivities. She was seemingly forgotten, no more than an afterthought, if even that. 

Even as the sounds of screams emanated from the bedroom of the flat and spread into every crevice of the floorboards, and were barely contained by the fragile silencing charms cast on the property, Voldemort's attention drifted. Nagini had coiled around one of his master's legs, apparently disturbed by the shrill cries coming from the couple, yet The Dark Lord seemed to take no notice. 

The attacks across the U.K. were going better than Voldemort had anticipated this evening. Spurred on by the string of ministry denials, then later the ministry's downplay of the seriousness of the second rise of the Dark Lord, the dark forces had grown exponentially, while the number of new Aurors, and ministry officials, had grown only arithmetically. With Voldemort's troops attacking at full strength tonight, the side of the light was greatly outnumbered and easily overpowered. 

But, Voldemort remembered, the Dark Forces were not at their full strength tonight. Not entirely. The black snake, Severus Snape, had still not answered the summoning. He had wanted to send Snape to lead the attack on the Muggle Universities in and around London. Knowing Snape, the man would not do the job by halves. He'd in all likelihood poison the food in the cafeterias, tamper with their medicines, render the water supply unpotable, and maim or kill anyone who dared oppose them. 

To make matters worse, the reserves of potions at the Death Eaters disposal were rapidly dwindling, especially with the way minions like the Lestranges used them so liberally. The injured death eaters from heavily defended towns had used virtually all of the healing potions and salves within the first four hours of the attacks. 

Bored with watching Bellatrix Lestrange's tutorials on causing pain without causing death, Voldemort coiled Nagini around his neck and apparated back to their current hideout in a dank hall in Chillingham Manor. 

"Where is Snape?" Voldemort asked the shuddering figure nearby. 

"He has not yet arrived, your excellency," Peter Pettigrew dropped to his knees as soon as he had heard the faint pop. 

"Surely Severusss isn't so injured that he can't manage a simple apparition?" frowned Voldemort, walking over to the throne and sitting hard in it. 

Although Peter's face still darkened upon hearing the name of one of his childhood enemies mentioned, the dark lord saw nothing of this. Peter willed himself to keep his head bowed low. 

Voldemort could not understand what could have kept Snape from answering the summons. The Dark Lord refused to believe that the injuries he had allowed the Death Eaters to inflict on The Black Snake less than two days ago were the cause, for Severus Snape had reported to him in worse condition before. No broken bones, contusions, bruised testicles, sprained extremities, internal injuries, torn rectal tissues, or head injuries had kept Snape away in the past. 

It was often with great amusement that Voldemort watched the younger man hobble to their meetings, trying his best to hide his injured state. He'd especially like it when Wormtail, or some other Death Eater, tripped Snape as he limped by. He had literally laughed the day when Lucius Malfoy gave Severus Snape a hearty slap on the back, knowing full well that the potion master's back was covered with lacerations. Snape had kept his blank mask firmly in place, but he had barely managed to keep himself from fainting, and had to lean on a nearby stone collumn for support. 

The Dark Lord had received no such satisfaction tonight... 

"Severus is too headstrong." Voldemort hissed. "He needs to be punished, to be broken." 

"Yes sir." Pettigrew cowered. 

"Tell me, Wormtail." The Dark Lord said, scowling in his own reptilian way. "Is Snape's mother still living?" 

"Yes s-sir." Wormtail responded, daring to look up at last. "She is still on the Fourth Floor at St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries. In the Spell Damage department." 

"In the Janus Thickey Ward?" Voldemort inquired. "Where the Longbottoms also reside?" 

Peter Pettigrew's head bobbed up and down. 

"Pity the woman went insane. She would have been most helpful in applying leverage to our cause. No boy wants to see his mother tortured after all. Or perhaps forced against her will to bear an offspring which will not be entirely human." Voldemort hissed so much as he spoke that the untrained ear would have perceived him to be speaking in parseltongue. "How ironic that Snape has determined the target of our next raid by his very absence." Voldemort patted Nagini on the head. "He needs to be broken, as do too many in the wizarding world. Furthermore..." Pettigrew's eyes grew wide. "Snape will join the assault on St. Mungos as will I! If he tries to save the whore who gave him life, as you and I know he will, we will be there waiting for him!" 

Wormtail jumped with glee. The next raid was going to be so good. 

"Killing the one who bore the Black Snake right before the Snake's very eyes will surely break him down completely." The Dark Lord made a gesture of snapping a person's neck, "...and assure his continued subservience." 

"Begging your pardon, sir." Wormtail asked, kissing the hem of the Dark Lord's robes. 

"Sssspeak." 

"Since Snivel--Severus w-was forced to drink the Interventio Interferus potion," Peter began, "how was he supposed to get here if he can't apparate? And how much damage could he do if he can't use his magic?" 

"You question me?" Voldemort turned his red eyes on the cowering man. 

"No sir, never sir...just wondering." 

"We are not far from Hogsmeade, The Black Snake should have run here. We did not break his legs, after all." Voldemort said as casually as if he were commenting on the weather. "And you know Severus is a proficient fighter with only his fists. No doubt you and your childhood friends know that well." 

Wormtail cringed. 

"But first..." Voldemort hissed out loud, as he drew his wand. "CRUCIO!" his voice was soon drowned by Peter Pettigrew's shrieks. 

After several minutes, Voldemort touched a finger to his left forearm. "SNAPE!" End Part Nine

* * *


	10. Perchance To Disclosure

**Remembrance and Renewal** by **Nigel Tatsuya** and **Avatar Arkmage**   
Chapter Ten: **Perchance to Disclosure**

For a moment that seemed to last an eon, Harry could say nothing, even though the words churned and welled behind the causeway of his larynx like an impending flood. There was so much he longed to disclose to his father, so much he needed to say, but danger loomed threateningly close. 

It was not Snape's voice, but his stomach that eventually broke the silence. It had not rumbled particularly loudly, but Harry's close proximity to Snape's abdominal region made it salient in the otherwise quiet ward. 

"Oh!" Harry exclaimed, happy for the diversion, and realising that he too was hungry. Both of them had only ingested broth for dinner, with muggle sweets for dessert. Harry motioned to the pile of confections on his tray table. "Accio Chocolate and peanut butter covered biscuit and nougat bar." 

Snape looked as though he were about to chide Harry for doing magic in his weakened state; and wandless magic at that. When he opened his mouth however, Harry shoved a huge chunk of the sweet inside. 

"Well sorry sir, but you are hungry aren't you?" Harry responded to Snape's frown, taking a bite of the bar himself. 

As he chewed on the crispy sweet, Severus glared at Harry with a look that said: "thank you" and "bloody cheek!" simultaneously. Harry saw that the "bloody cheek" expression was slowly gaining ground, so when Severus swallowed the chocolate, and looked as though he were about to launch into a diatribe, Harry stuffed the bar into Snape's mouth again, forcing his father to either choke, or take another bite. In enough discomfort as it was, Severus opted for the latter. 

Harry felt as though he were in the midst of a life that belonged to some one else. There seemed to be few things more pleasurable than sharing a sweet confection with a parent, except for maybe sharing that confection whilst being held in said parent's arms. The sweet flavour on his tongue, and the warmth he felt at being held, was enough to make Harry temporarily forget how unhappy he had been over the years; how lonely he had been whilst staying at the Dursleys; how much pressure he felt to live up to the seemingly insurmountable expectations of the wizarding world; how frightening it was to see so much death in his relatively short life; how badly he had failed at his first attempt at romance with a young woman; and how he had so often nearly failed at being a friend to Ron and Hermione. All of those unpleasant memories seemed to dissipate like a cold mist in the presence of intense sunlight, to evanesce like a bad dream banished by the presence, grounding, and security of a parent. 

Severus closed his eyes, and it was then that Harry noticed how wretched the older man appeared. His normally pale skin was ashen now, and his cheeks were flushed. Instinctively, Harry reached up to palpate the side of his father's face, inadvertently smudging chocolate on it. As Harry feared, the man's face was very hot to the touch. Indeed, Harry had been sweating in the places where his body came in contact with his father's. "Sir...you're burning up. You have a fever!" 

"And you've got an ample amount of cheek!" Snape retorted. "What of it?" 

"Can't you take a fever reducing potion? You can always brew more for Madam Pomfrey later, after all." Harry motioned to a cabinet at the end of the rows of beds. "Accio-" 

Almost too fervently, Snape grabbed Harry around the wrist, and pushed his hand back at his side. "Keep to your own affairs, Potter! I neither want, nor need a fever reducing potion." 

"Why not?" Harry was appalled at Snape's recalcitrant actions. "Are you in some sort of competition for surviving the highest fever without permanent brain damage? Fine! Judging from how hot you are, you've probably won, now..." 

"Is the good sirs be wanting anything tonight?" asked a female house elf, who had popped into the room to change the linens. 

"Call Madam Pomfrey, please." Harry replied before Snape could say anything. 

The house elf immediately put the stack of linens she was holding on a nearby bed, and popped out of the room. Madam Pomfrey tottered in moments later with her hair hanging in loose tendrils about her shoulders. Her eyes were heavily lidded with disturbed sleep, and her gait was fatigued as well. Neither Harry nor Snape could blame her, the harried matron had not slept undisturbed for at least a few days. 

"Oh My!" she said upon seeing Snape seated on the floor, with Harry cradled in his arms like a particularly macrosomic baby. "What's this then?" 

If Madam Pomfrey hadn't been so tired, she would have noticed the smudges of chocolate on both of their faces. If she hadn't been so grouchy from the lack of sleep, she might have found the humour in that.

* * *

Harry gave Poppy a full account of what had transpired since she had retired for the night, as she examined the boy for further injuries. Snape was predictably silent, but was watching the proceedings with what appeared to be a mixture of anger and...was it concern? 

"You'll feel much better in the morning, Harry." Poppy said, waving her wand over the cuts on Harry's scalp. "You'll need to stay in the hospital wing for a few days more, but you're coming along nicely." 

"You're the best healer I've ever met, Madam Pomfrey." Harry said, searching the tender area on his scalp for any trace of the cut that had been there just moments before. "Ehm, so why not heal Professor Snape a bit more? He's got a terrible fever, and a lot of his wounds could do with some closing up." 

"Because..." Poppy began. 

"It is not your concern, Potter!" Snape interjected. 

"It was also no concern of yours that I was hammered soundly and nearly drowned, but you rescued me anyhow." Harry snapped. "Why can't anyone want the same for you?" 

"Potter, unlike you, whilst you were immersed in the overfilled bath, I am fully conscious. I can say what interventions Madam Pomfrey may, or may not employ. Had you been conscious then, and told me of your desire to drown, and/or be hammered further by your family, I would have granted your request. Now leave Madam Pomfrey to it, infernal boy!" 

Madam Pomfrey pouted inwardly. Without a doubt, Harry Potter and Severus Snape were the most unyielding individuals she had ever met. If either of them survived long enough to die of natural causes, she would be very surprised indeed. 

Having been informed thoroughly by Harry about Snape's attempt to escape from the hospital wing, Madam Pomfrey employed drastic, non-magical measures. After assessing his injuries, she manacled one of Severus's wrists, and one of his ankles to the metal frame of the bed; much to Harry's great relief, and to Snape's chagrin. 

Harry watched Severus tug, and pull at the sturdy chains, as though he were trying to determine a way to free himself from them. Harry was sure that Poppy would have placed anti-breakage charms on them, so he watched for a while more before closing his eyes, and falling asleep. 

"Poppy!" Severus growled. "What am I to do when I have to...errr uhmm...relieve myself?" 

"That is what the foley catheter is for. Ingenious muggle invention, I must say." Poppy replied. After making sure Harry was sleeping, Madam Pomfrey returned to Severus and lifted his covers. She then explained the foley catheter's function further. 

"Really?" Severus sneered. "I thought it was meant to be employed as a torture device! Or an internal leash of sorts." 

Poppy ignored the barb. As much as she admired the man's intelligence, as well as all the work he did for the order, he was still a difficult patient "Now Professor Snape, you know better." Poppy glanced over her shoulder at Harry, who appeared to have been sleeping. "You have to refrain from moving about too much for at least another day or two. Your stitches are still draining, and the tubing could injure you further." 

Severus made no further protests as Poppy replaced the blankets over him. "I only wonder how sick and wounded muggles make due without magic and potions." Severus spoke softly so as not to disturb Harry in the adjacent bed. "Because they must heal primarily on their own, it is curious that they engage in as many wars as they do." 

"Indeed!" Madam Pomfrey concurred. "I find it exceedingly odd that muggle leaders would provoke such enmity amoungst themselves. How can they stand to watch their citizens killed, knowing that those who survive are destined for long periods of painful convalescence?" At Snape's silence, Poppy attempted to answer her own question. "Must be because we're all the same species, and one need only look at Voldemort's followers to see just how territorial and violent humans can be. They don't think of the consequences any more than some equally warlike muggles might. All they can focus on is their cause, regardless of what price they force others to pay." Poppy looked strangely at Severus as she spoke."So, He-who-must-not-be-named summoned you tonight?" 

Snape nodded, the only sound in the room was the faint clinking of the chains connecting the manacles to the bedframe. Severus shifted beneath the blankets, and continued to fidget until he apparently found a position that was comfortable. 

"Cruel whoreson!" Poppy muttered under her breath. "After he did this to you, he expects you to be well enough to hobble to his side just because he wishes it? 

Snape's eyes widened at Pomfrey's unexpected profanity. He could not recall her swearing very often before, and it sounded as foreign as hearing an unoccupied suit of armour spout poetry. 

"Just try to get some sleep." Nurse Pomfrey regained her composure. "This house elf has been instructed to keep watch here whilst I sleep..." 

Severus silently observed the tiny figure, as it fastidiously stuffed a pillow into a fresh case. 

"She normally works in the kitchens or the laundry, but since you and Harry seem to need so much supervision, she'll mind you for a while." Poppy went on, checking once more on Harry. 

"House elf?" Severus called, startling the elf so much that she dropped the pile of soiled linens she was toting in her scrawny arms. "Tell me, what is your name, that I may address you properly?" 

"Yumi, sir. " The elf with chartreuse eyes replied, bowing reverently. "Yumi the house elf."

* * *

Harry had just enough presence of mind not to vociferate when he nearly fell out of bed. For perhaps the third or fourth time that night, Harry had been roused by Lord Voldemort. Not by the dark wizard himself, but by equally, or perhaps more horrifying visions from him. It was as though Harry were in Voldemort's body; taking pleasure in disembowelling a man splayed over what Harry assumed to be the man's own billiards table; brutally casting the cruciatus curse on a pair of muggle teenagers; and raping a young man's mother while the young man was forced to watch. 

Harry felt very uncomfortable by that, for he would never dream of engaging in sexual acts with any party not directly involved watching; much less force himself upon an unwilling partner. Yet Voldemort pinned the middle aged woman against the wall by the wrists and thrust into her as the Death Eaters and the horrified son looked on . Judging from sensations in his own body, Harry assumed that Voldemort's ultimate goal was to shock and horrify the woman's son. His own release and pleasure seemed mere perks, just extra gratification to go along the violent act itself. 

Harry woke with a start, just as Voldemort climaxed, and barely clung to the bed rail in an effort not to fall to the floor. The feeling of nausea rising within him was almost too much to tolerate. This was what Harry had seen almost happen to his grandmother seventeen years back in time, but the Dark Lord had opted to use an equally detrimental means to force Severus to do his bidding. Although the prolonged cruciatus curse had not killed Mervidith Snape, it had cost her both her sanity and her family. Harry could not help but wonder how many other families had been broken in this manner. How many other children and grandchildren had to live with the aftermath of the Dark Lord's wrath? 

"Is the good sir be needing something?"the house elf with the giant chartreuse eyes inquired. 

"What?" Harry turned to the elf who he did not recognize. The conversation he had had with his parents whilst freed from his body came back to him. "Oh no, I don't need anything right now. Thank you for asking...uh..uh..what is your name?" 

The elf curtseyed whilst replying. "Yumi, sir. I am Yumi the house elf..." 

Heedless of the aches still prevalent throughout his body, Harry leapt out of bed, startling the poor elf in the process. "Yumi?" 

"Yes good sir." the elf replied, frightened tears welling in her large chartreuse eyes. 

"Awww... hey, hey don't cry." Harry said, putting both hands on her slight shoulders. "I'm really glad to meet you, Yumi." 

"The great Harry Potter is glad to meet Yumi?" the elf whimpered, disbelief heavy in her voice. At seeing Harry's enthusiastic nod, Yumi began wailing in very much the same manner as he had seen Dobby do many times in the past. 

"Shh! It's okay...it's okay,Yumi. No need to carry on so, you might wake up Professor Snape!" Harry wrapped his arms around the tiny elf and patted her on the back until the worst of her mewling had subsided. 

"I am already awake, Potter! The only individuals who would have even a remote chance of acquiring adequate rest with you about, would be corpses seven years deceased!" came a sleepy, though irate, voice from the bed next to his. "You had better go back to sleep Potter, it is not very clever of you to carry on this way. You ought to rest so as to optimize your chances at healing quickly." 

"Okay. I'm sorry, Professor Snape." Harry boldly reached over and patted his father reassuringly on the shoulder before returning to his own bed. 

'Harry Potter, actually responding politely?' Professor Snape could not entirely believe it, and concluded that his escalating fever was interfering with his perception of events. His chains clanked softly as he rolled over and closed his eyes once more. He dozed off, deciding that perhaps Potter's near drowning had waterlogged the boy's brains. Or else he had been hit on the head one time too many. Why else would Potter even seem to even care for him now? 

"Yumi," Harry whispered once the Professor began snoring softly again. "Will you come by and visit me every now and again?" 

"Not to question you sir, never that..."the house elf begged for pardon before asking the question. "...but why do you want to see Yumi the house elf, sir?" 

"Yumi, before you came to Hogwarts, you used to serve the Potter family, right?" Harry said, his own eyelids drooping with drowsiness. 

"Yes sir. Harry Potter was being such a good baby." Yumi's eyes appeared to be reminiscing on a happier time. 

"You helped my parents care for me as a baby?" 

"Oh yes, good sir." Yumi said, grasping the blankets and tucking them around Harry's shoulders. "Harry Potter were always a good baby." 

Harry wanted to ask the elf about her time with the Potters, and of her years working at Hogwarts. He wondered if Yumi would be forever indentured to Hogwarts since she had been orphaned, or would she be transferred back to him when he was old enough to own an elf, as he was heir to the Potter clan. He also wanted to ask about Yumi's skills at painting, and if she would do him the honour of capturing the likenesses of his parents, as well as that of Sirius black. 

"Mr. Potter should be sleeping. " Yumi stated gently, before scuttling to the far end of the room and conjuring a mop and bucket. She then started mopping the floor so vigorously, that it appeared as though she were trying to scrape an unseen substance from it. "Sleep well, good sir." 

"Goodnight, Yumi." Harry replied, closing his eyes and finding sleep almost instantaneously.

* * *

Harry groaned when he saw a dark stone wall materialise before him, with only a single torch protruding from it; the only source of illumination. He felt sure that this was one of the same visions that so often disturbed his sleep. He was once again seeing through Voldemort's eyes. He braced himself against the tortured muggle, or murdered half-blood he was sure to see. 

Strangely though, Harry did not feel malicious, nor did he feel vengeful or lustful. Looking around the room, he recognised the entrance towards the potions classroom, and remembered seeing the bottles on shelves along the wall, each containing ingredients which ran the whole gamut from the fascinating to the grotesque. Harry remembered Snape's office all too well, an unfortunate side effect of the fiasco that had been his Occlumency lessons. 

Why was he seeing this place again? Surely Voldemort hadn't managed to gain entry into Hogwarts? And why would Voldemort take the trouble of coming here when he could have easily summoned Snape to his side? How had he passed through the wards? Surely some of the wards had been made to keep him, Voldemort, out specifically? 

Or was he seeing through Voldemort's eyes at all? 

After much introspection, Harry realized that he was not experiencing Voldemort's activities, but was indeed having a dream of his very own. At the same time, it seemed strange and surreal to be aware of the very fact that he was dreaming. He wondered also how much control he would have over his dreams, if he was aware that he was dreaming? 

Harry had heard the term 'lucid dreaming' before, in which the dreamer attempted to control the mood and course of the dream, and could interact with objects and living things within. Harry picked up a quill on Professor Snape's desk and twirled it in his fingers. It felt solid enough, yet he had no memory of how he had come to be in the dungeons in the first place. And where was his father? Could he interact with him as well? Could he finally talk to the dream image of him? Could they spend some quality time together at last? 

Harry was determined to take full control of this dream. 

And there he was! Professor Snape briefly entered the room, retrieved one of the vials, and walked out through the door to his laboratory nearby. Harry eagerly followed, not caring about the possible consequences of his actions. This was, after all, only a dream. 

Professor Snape set to work immediately. He was soon adding chopped ingredients to a cauldron simmering over bright white flames, stirring gently all the while. He then pulled out his wand and whispered a series of incantations, causing the liquid in the caldron to change in both appearance and consistency. Harry watched him work, marveling at the man's incredible proficiency at his tasks. Once again reminding himself that he was only dreaming, Harry boldly approached the professor, his father. He moved to within centimetres of him, and noticed that Professor Snape had applied liberal amounts of pomade to his hair. Harry sniffed it quietly, and noted that it smelled faintly of fruit, and the oils of nuts and legumes he could not readily identify . 

Deciding that he had nothing to lose, other than sleep, he boldly moved even closer. He cared not whether the dream professor turned him into a frog, or summat, for he would still wake as a human. He wrapped his arms around Professor Snape's torso and yelled: "Hello, father!" 

Harry could barely keep from laughing at the sight of Professor Snape going the proverbial equivalent of nutters. After exclaiming rather loudly in shock, Severus dropped the phial he was holding, spilling the potion all over the counter. The container then rolled off the table, and broke with a resounding crash against the stone floor. 

The dark haired man turned around slowly. The expression that crossed his face next was a mixture of abject consternation, and...what was that expression? Harry had never seen the professor's face like this, even many years on the past. 

Harry once again reminded himself that he was only dreaming. "Father!" he said boldly. 

To Harry's incredulity, Professor Snape's customary sneer tried to make an appearance, but dissipated completely when his black eyes filled with tears, and widened in complete astonishment. "You...you...?" 

"Yes Father." Harry felt tears threaten him as well, but pressed onward. He might never have such an opportunity to confront his father in a dream again. 

"But how?" Severus grabbed both of Harry's hands and felt along his fingers, his wrists and up until he reached his elbows. "How are you here?" Both of Snape's quivering hands found Harry's shoulders and squeezed firmly before moving down his chest and finally coming to rest on the boy's sides. "You're alive! You're really here! You're flesh?" 

"Yes, father, I am." Harry could not help it. Although he knew it was only a dream, he pulled his father into his arms and kissed him on the cheek. Not caring if his hands felt greasy for a week, he gently stroked the man's silky hair, just wanting to fully take in the experience of having a parent. A living parent who was as close as his touch. Whose alien, yet deep love could be felt in Harry's very blood coursing through his veins. 

"Oh Merlin!" Severus said in a strange baritone that Harry wouldn't normally associate with his dour potions master. This was the voice of the man he had met on his journey outside of time. Now time collapsed upon itself. Time, which had so hardened his father's voice, weathered his expressive features into a mere ghost of its former self, and rendered his heart into an unfeeling organ which served no other purpose than to circulate blood, released its firm hold. Harry had his father back. The man who had wanted him all those years before, who grieved for him when he thought him lost, and who still appeared to love him even now. 

To Harry's elation, Severus returned the embrace, more vehemently; holding onto Harry as though he were more precious to him than his own life. The embrace held an urgency, an inherent neediness to it. "How is it that you're here? Why haven't I seen you for nearly seventeen years? Have I died?" 

"No father, you're still alive. And..." It was strange to address his potions professor as 'father', yet at the same time, it was the sweetest word Harry had ever heard or spoken. "I'm truly alive." 

"But you were never born." Professor Snape remonstrated, attempting to put his emotionless expression back into its rightful place. "You don't exist." 

"No," Harry brushed away his father's drying tears on his sleeve, then dashed his own tears away, "that night in 1979, the very night you were forced to take the Dark Mark, mum was already pregnant with me. If I'm right, I was conceived only a few days before." 

"Lils.." Professor Snape's eyes widened as he mouthed: "Why didn't you tell me? " 

"Maybe mother didn't know for sure yet?" Harry offered. "Don't women need to miss a period to even suspect they might be pregnant?" 

"But that's impossible..!" anger darkened the Professor's features as his voice shook with both sadness and anger. "She had a child with James Potter in July of the following year." 

"James was not the father of that child." Harry went on, thinking this dream sequence was good practice for the day he would finally tell his father the truth. "You are. Harry Potter is not James Potter's son, but the son of Severus Snape." 

"POTTER? You? But Potter is..." If Snape had opened his mouth any wider, Harry was sure he would have needed his jaw reset, for it would have become unhinged. "But he- I mean you... Harry Potter looks just like James Potter! But then you claim to be Harry, but you look a little like... Oh!" 

'What had changed?' Harry wondered to himself. Why did Snape see him as the preborn angel, and not Harry Potter in this dream sequence? Was it his own wishful thinking that was causing Professor Severus Snape to react this way? Harry bolted from the lab, and ran into the boy's lavatory several doors down the hall. He dared not use the toilets, for fear that he would end up wetting the bed, but that was not his purpose there anyway. Harry turned his attention toward the large mirrors lining the walls over the basins, and gazed upon the unfamiliar person staring back at him. 

To be sure, it was still him. His eyes were the same hue, but the shape was distinctly more almond like, and were accentuated by long, dense and dark lashes. His black brows were slightly more narrow, as were his nose, lips and cheekbones, giving Harry an altogether more intense and aquiline appearance. His hair was no longer dishevelled and unruly, but sleek and glossy, and cascaded just past his shoulders in nearly straight locks. The colour of his hair, he noted, was black upon first observation, but shone red where the light struck it, giving his hair the appearance of glowing embers. Harry wondered if his hair's strange, though beautiful colouration was due to Lily's and Severus's genes each striving for dominance, or if it was directly inherited from his grandmother, Mervidith Snape, who had similarly coloured hair. 

Harry gazed deeply at his own reflection for a while longer. There was something so foreign, yet profound in doing so, for Harry simultaneously could see both his parents in his own reflection. Severus Snape and Lily Potter each stared back in him, their features harmonized in a single face. 

Harry became aware of a someone else reflected in the mirror, just behind, and to the side. It was his Severus. The man had followed him. 

"Will you be staying..?" The man's verbalisation was broken nearly into individual syllables, as his lower lip began quivering. Tears were now freely spilling down the older man's face, and this time, he did nothing to prevent them. 

"Yes father." Harry said, looking at his father's reflection in the mirror. "I will never leave you again. You don't have to walk this Earth alone anymore, as you thought you would. Do you remember that I promised to return to you seventeen years in your future? Well so I have..." 

Professor Snape's eyes widened. His preborn angel had indeed made that promise to him, as he lay on the cold tiles after his brutal assault at the mercy of Death Eaters influenced by the Animalia potion. Severus looked as though he wanted to say something, but his sobs rendered his efforts at coherent speech futile. 

Feeling his father needed this more than he needed air at the moment, Harry wrapped his arms around the man once more. "You've given up so much to do what you believed was right. You gave up your own happiness with mother because you were worried that bearing the dark mark would cause you to become violent towards her, you didn't want to risk it." 

"You knew?" Severus sobbed, looking nothing like Harry's potion master, and everything like the young nineteen year old who had sired him. "You saw many of the things I've done?" 

Harry knew he had too much control over this dream, for Severus was stunningly out of character at the moment. The present day Professor Severus Snape, in all likelihood, never wept or showed emotion of any kind. Surely Harry's own desire to have his parent back influenced the dream image of Severus even now. "And you risk your very life to keep as many innocents in the wizarding world safe. Surely you understand that each mission could be your last, but you do it because you feel it is right. You want to avoid families having to suffer...as your family did...Well, our family now." Harry spoke into his father's ear as he continued to hold him. To Harry's contentment, his father clung to him as well. "There is no one I am more proud of at this moment than you, father. Giving up your own happiness, so that you could give it to others. Risking your own life, so that others may live. Doing a job you hate, so that you can help guide future Death Eaters away from the path you were forced to take." 

"But I've been so heartless, so cruel to Harry Potter. To you, my own son." Severus lamented. 

"Because you thought I was the son that you would never have." Harry speculated. "You saw James Potter as the person who received the happiness that was rightfully yours..." 

Snape was too moved to speak. 

"Harry Potter and I, we are one in the same. As to why my physical self looks different from your angel'...charms maybe? In my spiritual form, maybe you see me how I was meant to appear, but my body was changed, transfigured,charmed, but altered with somehow to avoid raising suspicions of my paternity." 

"Or to keep you safe from the Dark Lord?" Snape hid is face in his hands when Harry finally released him. Professor Snape appeared to have a headache, perhaps due in part to his crying after so many years of keeping his stoic mask in place. Evidently, his body was no longer accustomed to displays of emotion. "The Dark Lord would have surely hurt you because you were my son." 

"Voldemort came after me, mum and dad anyway when he learnt of the prophecy." Harry sighed. 

"Oh, Merlin! Is there no end to my errors?" 

"What do you mean?" 

"I overheard the seer, Sybill Trelawney reciting the prophecy to Professor Dumbledore," Severus stated, sounding as though his very guilt were asphyxiating him. "At the time, I considered her to be nothing more than a fraud, so when The Dark Lord demanded that I tell him of the latest matters of Professor Albus Dumbledore and Hogwarts, I recited what I overheard at The Three Broomsticks that day." 

Harry was nearly overcome with anger, but he quickly pushed it aside, for fear that the intense emotion would wake him. 

"I thought he would have dismissed the seer's words as rubbish. The great-great-granddaughter of Cassandra, though Sybill was, people gave little credence to her, for all of her previous predictions were balderdash. But the Dark Lord did take the prophecy seriously, and attacked James Potter, your mother...and..and...you! " Severus was now crying in earnest, and Harry could discern that the guilt that Severus himself had inadvertently set in motion the chain of events that led to the death of his lover, and their son had torn a deep chasm into the potion master's heart. 

'Why had the dream Severus told him this?' Harry wondered. 'Was Harry trying to assign blame to his father?' That must be it. Harry seldom took ownership of his own actions, for blaming others was the easier course. 

"No father, don't blame yourself for this. If The Dark Lord hadn't forced you into his service in the first place, none of this would have happened." Harry said, draping an arm over his father's shoulders once more. "If you withheld that information, and Voldemort found out about it later, you'd have been killed for sure." 

"Voldemort will kill me someday anyhow," Severus muttered as he led Harry back out of the lavatory. "But not until he's gained supreme power over the whole of the wizarding world. He needs his potions master to achieve that end, after all." 

"Well **I** need my father." Harry proclaimed. "And since you've given up so much of your own happiness for the wizarding world, I, as your son, vow to give it back to you, no matter what it takes." 

"Before you save the world, or try to reduce the magnitude of my foibles," Snape said in his former authoritative voice. "Let us return to my chambers. We can talk further, it would not do for others to overhear us, or even see us together like this. Are you hungry.., my son?" 

By this time, Harry did not care that he was dreaming, and probably would be unable to eat. He just wanted to spend time with his father, so he replied: "Famished." 

Severus did something Harry did not anticipate. He smiled. Not a sneer, not a smirk, but an honest smile of the purest variety. 

"About my appearance," Harry continued as Severus led him into the dining room in his dark chambers. He then summoned a house elf, who brought them trays of roast beef, yorkshire puddings, and cooked vegetables, "maybe my parents traveled into the future and had the eugenics people integrate some of James's DNA into me? You could travel into the future with a time turner right?" Harry speculated. 

"With the right modifications..."Snape said, studying the boy before him and obviously making connections. He laid out the food on the table, and poured two glasses of pumpkin juice. "If James and Lily had done that, then you've got three parents." 

To his dismay, Harry began to feel himself fading from his father's chambers. He was waking up. Harry struggled against it. Dream, or no dream, he was enjoying the experience of spending time with a parent thoroughly, and was not ready to leave. 

"NO!" Severus yelled, upsetting platters of mashed swede, turnips, boiled cabbage, roast parsnips, and peas onto the dungeon floor as he lunged across the table at Harry's receding form. "You said you'd not leave! " 

Relentlessly, the scene brightened, and his father's pale face faded into the garish light. "Nooooo!" Harry mouthed as he soon found himself staring at the ceiling of the infirmary. He had never been less happy to have a dream end. 

Hoping he had not made too much noise, Harry surveyed his surroundings. Yumi was busily polishing the handles on the cabinet doors, seemingly unaware that anything in the room had changed. Harry was glad for that, surely even a wheeze from him would have brought that dutiful elf to his side. 

Harry then looked over at his father, and was relieved that he hadn't disturbed him. The man had a lot more healing to do, and needed his every moment of rest. Severus was still laying on his side, facing away from Harry, with his long black hair spilling over the pillow. His breathing was slow and even. Content with the situation, Harry closed his eyes and willed himself back to sleep, hoping for the opportunity to continue the dream, preferably from the moment it left off. There was so much Harry wanted to practice saying to the dream-Severus before he dared approach the real one. 

What Harry didn't know, was that Severus had not been asleep at that moment at all. He had been roused from his slumber at precisely the same moment Harry was. What Harry also did not know, was that the man's black eyes were wide with shock, and that tears slowly tracked over the man's sallow nose, and fell onto the pillow his head rested upon. 

End Part Ten 


	11. Bonded By Blood

**Remembrance and Renewal ** by ** Avatar Arkmage** and ** Nigel Tatsuya**   
Chapter Eleven: **Bonded by Blood**

It was all Professor Severus Snape could do to remain motionless. Feigning sleep, when sleep seemed a task more daunting than succumbing to death itself. He had attempted to stop the flow of tears from his eyes, but that was a crusade he had lost before even arriving at the figurative battlefield. Visions of what he believed to be his long-dead child had launched a frontal assault on him, whilst memories attacked from the rear, and fortified infantries and cavalries of remorse attacked from all sides. 

Defenceless, and outnumbered, Severus could neither retaliate nor flee. 

"Is Prof'sor Snape being sad?" Yumi asked, brushing a swatch of hair from Snape's face. She had been dusting the railings on his bed, and though Severus grieved in utter silence, it had not escaped the keen notice of the Potter's former house elf. 

Severus shook his head, praying that Harry was asleep, or had at least gone deaf in the past five minutes. Repeatedly, he tried to convince himself that what he had experienced was nothing more than a dream, born of longing for what could have been. 

Did he truly miss his own child so much that he was projecting that longing upon Harry? 

Then again, as it had done for nearly a hundred times in the span of only a few minutes, the question resurfaced: was it truly a dream at all? 

Yumi, greatly sensitive to the needs of humans by her very elfin nature, was worried about the potions professor. She had never seen him look anything other than cross or indifferent before. "Can Yumi help Prof'sor Snape? Does Prof'sor Snape want something?" 

'Yes,' Snape longed to reply. ' Grant me years that I might put so many things right. Bring me back the years I might have had with Lily...and the son I've denied life to.' Instead Professor Snape just scowled at Yumi and said: "No, leave me be." 

'Those were tears in his voice,' Harry decided. The thought of his present-day, surly potions professor crying was hard to envision. Harry had watched Snape as he was tortured by Voldemort a few days before, and the man had not uttered a sound, or shed a single tear during the ordeal. 

Indeed, Harry had seen the younger version of Snape crying on more than one occasion, in fact he had wept quite often. Harry concluded that as Severus grew older, he either lost that ability, or found the act so futile and time consuming that he no longer engaged in it. Until recently, Harry was sure that Snape had no heart at all. He had seen Professor Snape show not the slightest bit of pity towards frustrated students. If he came upon a weeping student, Severus was more than likely to ignore the student completely or would offer only a hard word and/or minimal assistance. 

Why was he crying now? Was he in that much pain from his injuries? Might he have had a nightmare? Perhaps of an earlier time of his life? 

A feeling of dread grew as Harry came upon the realisation that the dream he had enjoyed so much, may not have been his alone. What if somehow he had entered Professor Snape's dreams, or else the man had entered into his? Harry wondered if it was merely another side effect of their past Occlumency lessons together, or if it was something more. 

If the latter were true, then Snape probably knew of their relationship. Harry berated himself for being so careless; putting both Snape and himself in greater danger than they had been before. 

It was a barely audible sniffle from his father's direction that drew Harry from the bed. Before he could stop himself, or even realised what he was doing, he had hobbled to Snape's side and placed a hand on the distraught older man's shoulder. Severus chafed at the contact, but somehow managed to don a very convincing sneer as he turned on his son. "Potter! What are you bloody playing at?" 

If Harry could have kicked himself, he would have done so. Because he couldn't physically kick himself, he wished Poppy or Albus were there, so he could ask them to do it for him. "I-I just wanted to see if you were all right?" 

Severus discreetly dried his eyes and turned fully to Harry. Even though the youth still physically resembled James Potter, Harry's concerned expression and green-eyes were very much like that of the pre-born spirit. The fact that Harry would not look away, was more than Severus could bear. He turned away once more, causing his long black hair to fall like an obscuring veil over his face. "I'm just fine, Harry...go!" 

Professor Snape's addressing Harry as ''Harry' and not ''Potter' left little doubt in Harry's mind that Severus had indeed shared that dream. Defeated, Harry decided that it was time to talk to the man. Moreover, Harry was no longer sure he could keep the secret secure, when he wanted nothing more than to be the living angel son to his grieving father. "Father..." 

Severus rounded on Harry. Although his heart momentarily leapt at the prospect that his beloved angel had indeed survived, years of desolation had taught him that the route of denial held the least risk of further disapppointment. "WHAT? What did you say?" 

This time it was Harry who fell silent. 

Severus raised an eyebrow. 

"Professor Snape..." Harry mouthed 

"Potter!" Severus spat, "not only are you an arrogant twit, but an insane one as well! Go on, go back to your bed! And stop your infernal prattling. If what you say is not incomprehensible, it is utter balderdash!" 

"But, sir...I!" 

"Bugger off!" 

"Professor, will you let me explain?" 

"Explain what?" Severus snarled, covering Harry's face with tiny flecks of saliva. "That you only wished to torment me by calling me 'father?' To taunt me for what I don't have, thinking in your deluded way that I might yearn for things other men can have freely? Did you do this so that you, Granger and Weasley could have a laugh at me when you tell them of this?" 

"No!" Harry yelled, tears threatening. "I never wanted to taunt you! Please..." 

"I do not know what you're playing at, Potter, but it ends now. Return to your bed at once! And for the remainder of our time in the infirmary, you are not to speak to me. Do so, and I shall have Madam Pomfrey sedate you." 

Even though Harry had expected his father to react this way, he had not anticipated that it would hurt nearly as much as it did. He was no more alone now than he had been before, but this rejection was no different than the pain of death. 'No that was not true,' Harry decided as he moped back to his bed and pulled the covers over his face. 'Death would have been far easier to bear.' 

Of late, very few things brought Harry to tears; a lifetime alone, and under the heavy hand of abuse had hardened him. But beneath the cover of the crisp hospital sheets, Harry wept. 

Yumi's concerned face appeared under the blankets moments later. "Is Harry Potter needing something?" 

Harry sobbed even more fervently; so much that his stomach ached from the sheer force of the action. 

The house elf seemed frightened. "Yumi will call Madam Pomfrey. Harry Potter is suffering." 

"N-no." Harry whimpered louder than he intended. He restrained the confused house elf by hugging her to his chest. "Madam Pomfrey can't help me, Yumi." 

"Can Yumi help then? What does Harry want Yumi to do?" asked the elf, trying to dry Harry's tears even as more came in greater measures. 

Harry hugged the elf closer to him. With Professor Snape's rejection, Yumi was probably the closest Harry would ever come to having a family. "Paint for me." 

"Yumi will paint for you, anything you want, sir!" The elf said, seemingly thrilled at the request. "What should Yumi paint?" 

Harry's reply was so wracked with sobs, that it came out only as louder sobs. 

Watching silently, and still attempting to make sense of what had just transpired, Severus opened his mouth to say: 'Shut up, you cacophonous, blaring, blithering milksop!' But no words came out. In horror, he clapped his unshackled hand over his mouth. He had sounded shockingly like his father Lucien Snape. 

Yumi did not return to her duties until Harry had literally cried himself back to sleep. Severus watched all the while, wondering what, if anything, he should do. He and Potter were about as close to enemies as a Professor and a student could ethically be, and Severus had often referred to Potter as an arrogant and foolish twit before. Unlike before, Harry wept, where he would have smirked or glared in the past. Why did Potter seem so hurt by those similar assessments now? Why did he carry on that way? 

Why had Potter called him 'father?' The dream he had had earlier sprang to the surface. Was it true then? Had the pre-born angel lived after all? 

Severus went back to sleep after an hour more of contemplation, berating himself for even thinking on it.

* * *

Severus dropped a flask at the sound of sobbing from behind him. He turned, ready to lambaste the student who had dared to disturb him, and came face to face with his angel son, once again flesh. 

"You don't believe me? Why?" the youth asked sadly. "I'm your son!" Severus realised that Potter's voice, and that of his son, were nearly the same. "Or is it that you hate me so much as Harry Potter, that you don't want me at all?" 

A lightning bolt scar appeared on the youth's forehead; his face became distinctly less aquiline; and his long hair shortened and became dishevelled. "I had hoped that neither one of us would have to fight alone against Voldemort. I said that I would return to you seventeen years in the future... in this time actually. But since you hate me so much..." Harry could not continue. The youth wavered, alternating its form between flesh and spirit. He then began wailing , as he had done so long ago in Alsace. "I'll leave you alone then, father."

* * *

"Harry? Harry!" Severus Snape said upon waking. He turned to the adjacent bed and saw Harry looking forlornly back at him. Severus forced himself to gaze directly at the boy's face, past the flesh that resembled James Potter, past the mask that was Harry Potter- the boy who lived. For the first time, Severus saw none of the arrogance, he had assumed to be there before. He saw none of the vanity or animosity he expected. All he saw was sadness and sincerity. The echo of Lily staring back at him. Severus had seen nothing but love in Lily's eyes, and saw nothing but the same in her son's eyes. In his own son's eyes. 

"It is true then?" Severus queried. 

"Yes, father." Harry said, not breaking eye-contact. His account of all that had transpired over the past few days, or the lifetime that he experienced therein, flowed out of his mouth unmitigated. He spoke so fast, that he doubted even his father's almost photographic memory, and skills at legillimency allowed him to comprehend each word. He pressed on anyway, and told Severus about the time immediately following his near drowning. He told of his meeting with Lily, James and Sirius, and how as a spirit he had been able to relocate from one point of the timeline directly to another. 

"Nonlinear time?" The expression on Snape's face was very odd, but Harry assumed that it was merely the man trying to take in so much information at once. Either that, or seeing Snape's face without a frown, sneer or smirk was in and of itself odd. 

Harry recounted witnessing his father's sad childhood, and how he had come to admire both him, and his grandmother for their inner strength, adaptability, and survival skills. Harry summarized the day he had watched his grandmother being tortured, Severus taking the mark, and the events thereafter. Great pain crossed Severus's features as memories he had willed himself to forget so long ago, surged from him like a forceful torrent. 

Severus closed his eyes when Harry began describing how he had been there, unseen, in Alsace when Severus had swaddled a doll in a knitted blanket meant for Harry. 

"And I apologized for denying you life," Severus choked. "I could almost feel your presence around me that day. I heard your anguished cries. I wanted so much to raise you, to give you a home, to provide for you, to protect you, to give you all the things a father should, but I thought you worse than dead." 

When Harry began to recite verbatim the words he had spoken to Severus following his assault at the hands of the Animalia influenced Death Eaters, Severus hid his face with his free hand. "...and then I said: 'I'm still alive as well. My body is weak, but it exists, and it can heal. You'll..." 

"...heal in time too..." Severus finished, his face still obscured by his hand. 

Harry frowned at the condition of Severus's body. "But you haven't! Whenever you heal, it seems as though Voldemort..." 

"Don't say his name!" 

"...the Dark Lord then...it seems as though he hurts you even worse." 

"That matters little." 

"Yes it does!" Harry shouted. "My father or no, I don't want you to suffer any more!" 

"Oh...I've been so cruel." Severus muttered, the guilt bearing like the weight of a score of crosses on him. 

"Yes you have!" Harry hissed. "But I think I can understand why, at least a little. If I went through half of what you did, I think I'd be even meaner than you." 

"So how can you..." 

"What? Not want you hurt any more? Not care?" Harry hobbled to Severus's side. "Not love my own father?" 

Severus was stunned. 

"Well of course I love you!" Harry stated resolutely. "A few days ago, when I only saw you as a mean arse of a professor, I disliked you as well. But now that I've followed you, now that I know more about you, well, I can't help but admire you. You're much more than my father, you're the best potions master in the entire UK, you've saved me time and again, despite how hard life was for you. No one turns foul overnight, after all. No one learns to be so cruel without having cruelty shown to them for years. Even with such horrible things in your past, you're still not evil." 

"The road to evil is a long journey," said Severus. 

Harry placed a hand on Severus's shoulder. "It is, and a dangerous one too. But you know what? I think we've both been walking alone for too long. I want to walk with you, my father, now." 

"Very well." Severus nodded, his expression emotionless once more. 

'It's a beginning,' Harry shrugged to himself. When he placed an arm over his father's shoulder, Harry noticed that Severus still felt unusually warm. The fever, which Harry had first become aware of as he sat in Snape's lap, persisted. Why couldn't Madam Pomfrey do anything for him? 

Just as Harry was about to rage once more at Voldemort's cruelty, he became aware of some one standing at the foot of the bed. The elderly man wore ornate, violet robes which were only eclipsed by his twinkling aquamarine eyes. 

"A most welcome sight," Dumbledore motioned toward Harry's arm, which was still draped over his father, "that the two of you have evidently seen fit to set aside your differences." 

"Naff off, Headmaster!" Professor Snape growled, attempting to sound like his usual self. 

Headmaster Dumbledore's eyes twinkled as he regarded Harry and Severus, prompting both of them to wonder just how long he had been standing there, and what he had heard. Not far behind, was the question as to just how much the Headmaster knew previously, and what did he knew now. There were times when he seemed to know everything, and times when he seemed to be blind to things one would find very obvious. 

Before either of them could ask the Headmaster anything, the door to the infirmary opened, and a procession of wounded bodies floated into the room and settled on the empty beds. 

"Yes, Severus." Dumbledore spoke softly, as though he had anticipated the question from the younger man. "Voldemort's forces attacked all across the UK last night. St. Mungos cannot accommodate all of the new patients, so we have opened the Hogwarts infirmary for some of the wounded." 

Harry gasped as he saw the condition of some of the new patients. A witch, clad in what was left of her Auror uniform, was so badly burned that she looked as though she had been attacked by a spelled flamethrower. Several wizards lay groaning on beds nearby, their arms and legs twisted at odd angles. One of the wizards had the handle of a dagger protruding from his sternum, and he actively begged anyone in the vicinity to help him remove the weapon. 

On the bed next to Harry's vacant one, lay an elderly man who looked strangely familiar. He had shimmering frost-coloured hair and twinkling eyes, which now glistened fiercely in pain. Most startling of all, the man's lower body ended in a Chinese dragon's tail, complete with iridescent scales that refracted the morning sun's rays, casting brilliant colours on adjacent surfaces. In place of his left arm was a reptilian claw, with the same iridescent scales adorning them. 

Harry didn't realize how long he had been staring, until the man returned his gaze. 

To Harry's surprise, the man did not seem annoyed in the slightest, and smiled warmly, though his eyes betrayed the extreme pain he was apparently in. "Hello!" the man said in a heavily accented voice. 

"Hi, Mr. Chang." Harry said, realizing why the man looked familiar. This was the man he had seen knicking almond cookies from Cho Chang. This must have been Cho's grandfather. 

"Ah, Cho has mentioned me to her school friends?" 

Although Cho had never mentioned her grandfather, Harry nodded anyhow, but continued to stare in awe at the man's strange body. 

"Oh if you're wondering," the man motioned to a large, cauterized gash on his belly with his human hand, "I was hit with four curses at once whilst I was in the midst of changing back to my human form. There's not enough blood flow now to allow me to transform fully. I got hit in the shoulder too." 

"Sorry to hear that." Harry said, wondering how the man's eyes could twinkle so much while he was apparently in so much pain. 

"You and your father look as though you've been caught in the raids as well." 

Caught off guard at hearing Severus referred to as Harry's father by a near stranger, Harry just nodded. How did the old dragon animagus know they were father and son? None but them knew, so perhaps the man had made nothing more than a lucky assumption. 

"Take care then, hope you recover soon." The elderly man said as fell back onto the bed, having no more strength with which to support himself. "I will tell Cho to bring almond cookies and sesame sweets for you and your father when she visits me." 

"Thank you, sir." Harry said, smiling. It felt incredible to be thought of as some one's son. 

Harry's attention was drawn to the other end of the infirmary at the sight of Arthur Weasley writhing in pain on one of the beds. Fred and Bill sat at the foot of the bed desperately trying to soothe their father. George trudged over to Harry and stared in shock at the sight of Harry with his arm around the shoulder of the 'Greasy Git.' 

Severus favoured the new arrivals at their bedside with a customary sneer. 

"Hi...uh...uhm.."Harry started. 

"It's George." George said still managing to look like a brocaded carp with gill disease. 

"Oh, uh..." Harry said, removing his arm as though it were on fire, and scuttling back to his own bed. "It's a long story, George. So what happened to your dad?" 

"Voldemort's forces took control of the ministry before daybreak." George said, still looking suspiciously at Professor Snape who gaped at overhearing the news. "Got dad before he even entered the building and knocked off a lot of ministry employees too." 

Professor Snape looked as though he were about spring from the bed, but only ended up tugging hard on the chains which still bound him to the railing. Albus Dumbledore, who had been assisting Madam Pomfrey with some of the patients, took the seat next to Snape's bed. Severus could not remember a time when then man looked more tired and feeble. 

"What's happened, Headmaster?" Severus asked even though he already anticipated the answer. 

Albus recounted Severus what information he had about the raids. Voldemort's forces were evenly matched on most fronts against the aurors and the Order, but in other locations, the Death Eaters decimated their opponents. Morale in the magical world had dropped greatly when word of the ministry's hostile takeover spread throughout the UK. To make matters worse, some of the very people who had once opposed the Dark Lord, now bowed to his leadership. Their rationale for changing loyalties were remarkably similar; life, any type of life, would be preferable than being killed for their continued allegiance to the side of the light. 

"Albus, release me." Professor Snape commanded, rather than asked, as he held up his bound wrist to his mentor. 

"No Severus, that is for Poppy to decide." Albus put a hand on Severus's forehead. "You are in no condition to be doing anything, however noble." 

"Headmaster, please. Many of these patients are wounded far more severely than me." Snape said, clutching the Headmaster's wrists in his hands. "The stores of potions will be depleted by morning, and that is only considering the number of patients we already have here. If things are as grave as you say, more injured are sure to arrive." 

"Severus, my dear boy." Albus tucked errant locks of black hair behind the younger man's ears, fully revealing his cheeks, which were still pinkish from the drying substances of prolactin, ACTH, and Leucine-Enkephalin of his tears. "I will not lose you in this war as well, son. You know very well that you're not able to use your magic without risking your life, and you won't be able to do so for a few weeks. Any potion you attempt whilst the Interventio Interferus is still in your blood, could be your last." 

"I may not be able to use **my** magic to make potions." Severus lamented. He turned in the direction of Harry's bed and spoke loudly enough to startle the boy into paying attention to the conversation. "But Potter can! He can assist me with the spells, and I can teach him the potions we did not yet cover in class." 

"Sir?" Harry gasped, turning to Snape in surprise. 

"Harry?" the Headmaster said, his cerulean eyes twinkling brightly once more. "Do you feel well enough to assist Professor Snape in brewing healing potions?" 

In truth, Harry did not think he was well enough to stand for long periods of time, let alone to brew potions. Furthermore, he wasn't sure how he would manage to walk all the way to the dungeons. At the same time however, Harry knew his father was in far more perilous condition, and would not likely have the strength to brew even half of the potions that would be required of him. Harry would not allow his father to do all of this alone. "Yes sir!" Harry said at last, feigning at least twice as much enthusiasm as he really felt. "I would love to assist Professor Snape!" 

Albus knew that Professor Snape almost smiled, but put on his habitual sneer for the acclaim of anyone who had turned in their direction. "Since Mr. Potter is still in need of remedial potions, he will learn under my instruction. As we do not wish to occupy beds when there are those more injured on the way , and those individuals are in greater need of the beds, we are releasing ourselves from the hospital wing effective immediately." He stated to Albus loud enough for anyone who had been paying attention to them to hear. 

Harry put on a convincing, though Dumbledore and Snape knew it was purely theatrical, pout, and immediately donned a dressing gown that Yumi brought for him, picked up his wand and stormed out of the infirmary. 

Albus picked up a tea stirrer on the tray table and transfigured it into a muggle type key. After several tries at altering the ''key,' Albus managed to unlock the cuffs around Snape's wrist and ankle, all the while being very careful not to allow the transfigured key to come in direct contact with Severus's flesh. 

"Now just a minute!" scolded Madam Pomfrey who was busily removing a hex from Arthur Weasley as his sons held him down. "You don't have authorization to leave the hospital wing! Come back here this instant! If this were St. Mungos the orderlies would..." 

But Snape had already wrapped a bed sheet over his pajamas and was hobbling out the door after Harry. Once outside, father and son leaned on one another, not so much for comfort, as for support, for neither of them could walk very well. They staggered all the way to the dungeons.

* * *

It had not been as difficult as Harry had anticipated. Upon reaching the dungeons, Professor Snape immediately put on his usual black robes, and offered a similar outfit for Harry to wear. Harry was glad to be finally out of those horrid hospital pajamas at last, even though he found Snape's robes to be much too large for him, and he needed to cast many spells on it to get it even remotely small enough to fit him. The sleeves and trouser legs seemed to want to stay long, so Harry rolled them up just as Severus finished setting up the lab and gathering ingredients from the stores. 

Knowing that both of them would be too weak to stand for prolonged periods, Yumi set up comfortable chairs close to the caldron where Harry would be working and next to the counter where Severus would sit while preparing the ingredients. 

Harry actually found himself interested as Snape described the properties of each potion ingredient as he prepared it. After giving the ingredient to Harry to add to the cauldron, he would give very detailed instructions on how to proceed. 

"Stir counterclockwise exactly twenty seven and a half times." Professor Snape said, as he cut up the next ingredient for the caldron. "When you've finished, follow this motion with your wand and say the incantation I've taught you." He raised the knife into the air and drew a crisscrossed shape. 

Harry was surprised at how much he managed to learn when Professor Snape wasn't condescending in his instructions, threatening to deduct points, or otherwise antagonizing him. He found potions strangely enjoyable, even empowering when he thought of all the people who would benefit from these healing draughts. The best perk of all was working alongside his father and every now and then even catching a glimpse of unmistakable pride in his father's eyes as he supervised Harry's work. 

Yumi remained with them throughout the day, moving completed potions to the cooling area, and bringing empty cauldrons as needed. Yumi even helped hold professor Snape's hands steady as he later decanted the cooled potions into vials to be ported to the infirmary by other house elves who mysteriously appeared at the appropriate times. 

Harry had not known previously that there were so many specialized healing potions. Many of them were developed by none other than Snape himself. Some of those potions worked on injuries caused by specific curses, while others worked on only certain tissues, much the way Skelegro only worked on bones. Still others were specialized in treating injuries to elderly witches and wizards. Some of the healing draughts worked on specific systems within the body. With all these potions at the potion master's disposal, Harry couldn't help but wonder why Snape had not taken any healing potions for himself. Not wanting to chance his father's fury however, Harry didn't question him. 

Dobby popped into the room after several hours, bearing trays laden with soft foods for Harry and Severus. When neither of them would quit working when asked to, Dobby and Yumi dragged their chairs out of the labs, and into the dining area of Snape's quarters. 

"Harry Potter needs food to become strong again." Dobby stated, serving the steaming bowls of soup and sandwiches. 

"Prof'sor Snape too! He is not yet well." Yumi said, ignoring the man's whinging at being forced to eat like a little child. 

Harry noticed that Severus had begun scowling more during their meal, than he had seen the dour man do all day. Surely the food wasn't bad, Harry found it to be extremely tasty. It wasn't until he studied the man's expression more that he realized why. The man was trying to avoid showing his fatigue. Harry realized that their shared meal together was very reminiscent of the one they nearly shared in their dream. Was Professor Snape actually worried that this too was only a dream, and that his son would vanish yet again? 

After the elves finished clearing the table, Harry reached across the table and patted his father's hands with his own. He did this as much to reassure his father that he was truly here, as to sate his own need for contact with his only living parent. Severus looked at him in shock, but made no more than a half-hearted effort to pull away. 

At seeing Harry's eyelids appearing to be staging a revolt against his own consciousness. Severus called Yumi and Dobby to assist Potter into the bath, and gave them orders to put him directly to bed afterwards. 

Once they had gone, Severus limped back to the labs and continued to work. Without his own ability to do magic, or Harry's assistance, Snape found that he could manage no more than the simplest potions. That was fine with him however, for Madam Pomfrey would be needing even these before long. 

Many hours later, a thoroughly exhausted Madam Pomfrey and Headmaster Albus Dumbledore entered the labs to find Severus resting his head on the desk, a mortar and pestle still in his hands. After Poppy determined that exhaustion had merely overwhelmed him, Albus carried the younger man into the water closet. 

"Poppy," Snape said, his eyes barely managing to focus. "How are the potions stores?" 

"We'll manage for about another day or so, with the current amount of patients we have." the nurse replied, assessing Snape's injuries after Albus had thrown his dirty robes into the neutralizing potion. "Hopefully by then we'll be able to bring in more supplies." 

Poppy would have normally expected a sarcastic reply from the Professor at this point, but saw that the man could barely stay conscious. In normal circumstances, Poppy would not have allowed him to do anything until he had healed more, but her other patients would die without the potions, and Severus made potions of the best quality. 

"Poppy," Albus began, "you should get some rest yourself now, the relief staff from St Mungos should be able to handle things in the infirmary until morning." 

"I'll do that." Madam Pomfrey said, barely suppressing a yawn. "But first, let me remove the tubes from Severus," she motioned towards the tubes, "he won't want or need them if he's going to be staying in his quarters." 

After Poppy removed the catheter, but determined his stitches still needed the tube for drainage , and Severus told Poppy that she might want to apply for a job as a professional torturer, Albus assisted Severus in the bath, then put him down for the night afterwards. 

Severus was surprised to find that Harry was asleep in his bed when he retired that night. He was even more surprised to discover that he didn't particularly mind. Sure this was Harry Potter, the boy who lived, but this was also his little green eyed angel after all. Severus concluded the house elves had put the boy there because he had told the elves to 'put Harry directly to bed,' but had not specified which bed, and since Harry had no permanent quarters in the castle, the elves did the most logical thing. Sure, the bed was large enough to accommodate three people comfortably and four people snugly, but didn't the house elves realize that he and Potter hadn't tolerated one another in the past? It didn't matter much now, Severus found he was too tired to go elsewhere to sleep and couldn't transfigure anything into a suitable bed. 

Severus reclined beneath the blankets and found that Potter had warmed the bed significantly. A welcome change from the cold bed he had slept in for years. Severus fell asleep enjoying that warmth and took great comfort in knowing that his little angel had kept his promise and returned after a seventeen year absence.

* * *

Because Severus was not used to sleeping with another person in his bed, he was not careful about how he shifted positions, and ended up smacking Harry in the head when he turned onto his stomach in his sleep. Although it did not really hurt him, it was more than enough to wake Harry. 

Harry looked over at the man sleeping next to him. Having a parent did have it's downside after all. Not a particularly bad downside, but a downside nonetheless. He wondered if his mother had been an inconsiderate sleeper as well. If so, had she and Snape awakened with bumps and bruises that neither could remember giving the other in the mornings? 

The house elves had dressed Harry in one of Snape's long grey nightshirts, and he noticed that the one his father was wearing looked exactly the same. Was that man so disciplined that he felt the need to be in a uniform at all times? Or did he have no imagination as far as his wardrobe was concerned? 

Snape flipped himself onto his back once more, causing his marked arm to flop onto the bed just inches from Harry's face. Harry's scar burned as the Dark Mark came into view...and it was glowing...that barsteward Voldemort was calling Snape again...or had he been calling him all along? 

"What are you up to, Voldemort?" Harry hissed, laying on his father's arm and pressing his forehead to the dark mark. 

End Part Eleven 


	12. Nine Times Blue

**Remembrance and Renewal** by **Avatar Arkmage** and **Nigel Tatsuya**   
Chapter Twelve: **Nine Times Blue**

It was as though a heated poker had been pressed to Harry's forehead when his scar came into contact with the Dark Mark. The searing heat spread through his head like flames fed by a highly combustible substance. Harry could barely will himself to remain against the searing heat of his father's left arm. Was this truly what his father went through each time The Dark Lord summoned him? 

In apparent discomfort, Severus groaned, and shifted his position twice more. He finally draped his right arm over Harry as he rolled onto his side, facing the boy. The added contact was the unspoken encouragement that Harry needed. He then concentrated, not on the pain, but on seeing beyond it. What was Voldemort up to, and what did he want with Snape? 

The smell of coagulating blood, festering wounds, and charred flesh assailed Harry's nostrils just moments later, as though in response to his inquiry. At first, Harry surmised that he was back in the infirmary, for he heard the moans of wounded people, and the footfalls of the harried medical staff tending them. 

The fact that he recognised neither the people, nor the location, indicated that he was not at Hogwarts. 

The walls of the spacious room were finished in rich raven green hues, and adorned with paintings depicting very dark scenes. Harry involuntarily glanced at paintings over some of the wounded, and saw the macabre images of people being led to a guillotine, terrified muggles lashed to stakes as kindling around their feet was set ablaze, and inquisitors making full use of the ducking stool. 

The room did not seem to be part of a hospital at all, but a parlour in a grand manor converted into a makeshift ward for the wounded. Harry felt exquisite anger rise within him at the sight of a cowering Peter Pettigrew, kneeling in contrition upon the blood smeared floor at his feet. Some of that anger, Harry knew, was from Voldemort himself. The rest was his own, but Harry endeavoured to suppress it, for fear of alerting The Dark Lord to his clandestine presence. 

Harry concluded that this location was the current headquarters of the Dark Lord's Forces. He attempted to gather as much visual intelligence as he could, but he was relegated to looking only at matters of interest to Voldemort. Try though he did, Harry could find nothing, a family crest, a seal, or even a view of a landmark out of an open window, to more positively identify this location. 

A moment later, a very battered Lucius Malfoy hobbled into the room. His white-blonde hair was randomly flecked with bright red blood, his Death Eater robes had been torn so badly that they barely stayed on, and his once elegant green velvet clothing beneath hung in tatters, exposing large areas of pale, bruised flesh. He was flanked by several other masked figures, who looked as though they had suffered similar or worse fates. 

"Malfoy," Harry felt himself say to the pale, blond man. "What happened?" 

Although it was difficult to distinguish from the bruising all over his face, the senior Malfoy blushed fiercely. "We encountered some unexpected resistance, Master..." 

Harry found the senior Malfoy's attempt at appearing lofty and cavalier, while at the same time looking like the loser from a fight with a sheet metal stamper, amusing. He would have laughed, were it not for the extreme disappointment and anger he felt from Voldemort. 

"What's wrong, Malfoy?" jeered a Death Eater Harry didn't recognize. "You get your arse kicked by a bunch of little girls or something?" 

"There was nothing little about them!" Bacterian blurted out, looking quite dazed. 

"That is most dissssgraceful." Voldemort hissed. "I've put you in charge of that operation, Malfoy. You've failed." 

"Master, if I may..." Malfoy tried. 

"You may not!" Voldemort raised his wand as though to punish the man who still managed to look haughty whilst expecting the Cruciatus curse or worse. "And to think I arranged your escape from Azkaban, and you ssshow your gratitude by failing in your firssst assignment." At the last possible moment though, Voldemort turned to Crabbe Sr. and Goyle Sr. "Give Malfoy what he desssservesss for hisssss dereliction in his dutiesssss." 

Harry watched in revulsion as Crabbe and Goyle backed the senior Malfoy into a corner of the darkened room. He knew what was to come, for he had witnessed the damage these men had done to his father earlier in the week. Harry wanted more than anything to turn away from the violence that was sure to follow, but he could not, for he felt Voldemort's amusement rising within him. Malfoy's hurt cries soon filled the air, but Harry could barely hear them over his own maniacal laughter. 

To Harry's relief, Voldemort turned away from the pogrom several minutes later out of sheer boredom. No doubt he had watched Crabbe and Goyle pummel enough erring Death Eaters to no longer find it to be a novel occurrence. 

Harry thoughts drifted momentarily to his own schoolmate, Draco Malfoy. From what Harry could construe, Draco could probably tell Vincent and Gregory to dance naked in the great hall during one of the castle's many feasts, and they'd in all likelihood comply without much reservation. Then again, what if their compliance to Draco Malfoy was nothing more than a charade? What if their obedience was due to the command of Crabbe Sr. and Goyle Sr., and not stemming from any authority directly in Malfoy's hands? Did Draco really wield that much power over his two goons? Would Vincent and Gregory send Draco to 'course: oblivion' when given the order to do so ? 

'What was he doing?' Harry asked himself, shocked at his own musings. Worrying about Draco? Had almost dying changed him that much that he would want to spare Draco from a beating that he supposedly deserved? 

'No,' Harry reasoned, although he had not flinched at Draco being turned into a ferret by the false Mad-Eye Moody, he would surely derive no satisfaction at seeing him hurt more seriously than that. No one, not even an utter prat like Draco, deserved to be bludgeoned and humiliated like that. 

Being on the threshold of Death had not changed him so much. At least not in that way. 

Even though Harry would have thought it impossible, he felt pity welling deep within him, amid the disgust he knew originated from Voldemort, as he walked amid scores of wounded Death Eaters in the makeshift infirmary. With their masks on, the Death Eaters had always been very easy to despise. Now, many of them wore only battle scars, the torn remnants of their cloaks, and...tears? 

Harry was taken aback a the sight of a wounded red haired woman. She wrapped her arms around her ample midsection, the unborn within her thrashing violently, as though in protest of its mother's reckless ways. Her white, cracked Death Eater's mask lay discarded on the floor next to her narrow cot. 

To Harry's astonishment, he felt a curious mixture of rage and worry at the woman. Had she truly joined the other Death Eaters in the night's raids? In her condition? "Why did you come on thissss raid, Sssterope?" Voldemort demanded, and Harry realised that the concern had not entirely been his own. 

"I had to, My Lord!" The woman replied, the child within her causing her near-hemispherical belly to tremble. "Those bloody Aurors were in our town, practically in our back yard! When I felt your summons, I joined immediately." 

"I wasss not sssummoning you sspecifically, Sssterope!" Voldemort said in a scolding tone. "In your condition..." 

"What kind of world would I be bringing this child into?" the woman paused and gritted her teeth, apparently having a contraction. When the pain subsided, she continued as though there had been no lull. "A world run by those self-righteous rulers at the ministry? A world where we allow those warlike muggles to infect our society as effectively as a plague? Look at what they've done to their own world! Poverty...pestilence...wars whenever they have the resources to attack each other..." 

"Sso you would have your child grow up without its mother?" Voldemort spat sharply. "Your lover hasss already perished, are you ssso eager to follow him?" 

Sterope shook her head as another contraction ripped through her body. 

"Ssseek to live, Sssterope." Voldemort ordered. 

Sterope's initial reply was a scream; the contractions were coming in earnest. "Yes, My Lord." 

"If you die, your infant may jusst end up languissshing in a Muggle orphanage. A meddlesssome lot they are, and orphansss from our world have a way of ending up in theirssss." 

"No, no, no, My Lord!" cried Sterope. "I will live! I will live! I'll not have those filthy Muggles lay a hand on this child! Aaaaaagh!" Sterope doubled over as a stronger contraction took hold, lasting nearly ninety seconds. "No, little one, not now. Please not now. You're not due to arrive for another two months. Stay where you are." 

"Sssissyphussss!" Voldemort shouted at one of the healers, whose lime-green St. Mungos uniform collar appeared randomly above the black of his Death Eater robes. "Ssssee to her at onccccce." 

"But master, Mulcahy here has a ruptured..." 

"Crucio!" Voldemort hissed before even drawing his wand fully into his hand. 

Harry wanted to avert his eyes at the sight of the healer Sisyphus writhing on the floor whilst screaming horribly. 

Voldemort lifted the curse, but not before catapulting the healer to Sterope's bedside with a second spell. "You will tend her." 

"Y-y-es, Mas-ter." Sisyphus stammered, still trembling from the Cruciatus curse as he raised the woman's tattered skirts. 

Harry hoped the woman's body would hold onto the fetus until it could survive on its own safely in the outside world. Even though the child's mother was a Death Eater, and the child would very likely follow her to Death Eater meetings when it was old enough, Harry wanted it to live and know its mother. 

Harry began to wonder if the thoughts were his own, or perhaps Voldemort's. Hadn't Tom Riddle been raised in an orphanage as well? Did he still possess a shred of humanity, that he would be concerned as to whether or not this child would share his fate, and be raised without parents as he, and Harry, had been? Might that be why he routinely killed whole families, rather than merely killing the parents and sparing the children, condemning them to a life without a parent's love, like he and Voldemort had both known. 

Harry did not have the opportunity to learn the fate of the woman's unborn, for Voldemort turned and walked out of the room. Along the way, he saw more and more rows of beaten death eaters, laying on objects which had been transfigured into narrow beds. By the time Voldemort exited the room, Harry no longer saw the death eaters as nothing more than faceless, brutes who killed and tortured for pleasure. Sure, there were individuals amongst them who were indeed brutes who tortured and killed for pleasure, but most of the wounded seemed to be ordinary people, misguided, though ordinary people nonetheless. 

Surely even among those in the side of he light, there were equally bad people. 

Voldemort walked into a comfortably furnished living room, and lit the fireplace by shouting "incendio" at it. He spelled a leather lounger chair closer to the fire and sat down heavily in it. Nagini, seeming eager for the warmth the fireplace provided as well as the company of its master, slithered from a nearby velvet pillow and onto Voldemort's lap. To Harry's disgust, Wormtail scuttled after the serpent and knelt at Voldemort's feet. How Harry longed to use the pale-haired man as a footrest. Better still, Harry hoped that Voldemort would trudge through the mud and THEN use Peter Pettigrew as a hassock...or better still, a football. 

"Any word on Ssssnape?" Voldemort stroked Nagini's scales as he spoke. 

"Well m-master." Wormtail shook so much that Harry knew the news was bad. "The rumour..." 

"I am not interessssted in rumourssss." Voldemort hissed, rubbing Nagini roughly. "What have you heard? I've been ssssummoning Sssnape all last night, and all day today, and he hasssn't yet made an appearanccce." 

"I've heard that Sniv-Snape is in very bad c-condition." Wormtail quivered out. "And the school nurse...she won't let him leave! Chained him to the bed and all." 

"Then Ssschool Nurse Pomfrey will be dealt with." Voldemort looked as though he were about to strangle the poor snake as he roughly grasped its neck. "With their potionsss master out of commissssion, and with all those patientsss, they will sssoon need to acquire their potionsss elsewhere. Wormtail, if they owl any of the apothecaries, have their carriers intercepted. If Matron Poppy Pomfrey is fool enough to venture to an outside apothecary on her own, it will ssssave us a conssssiderable amount of trouble." 

How Harry wanted to wipe that sickening grin off of Wormtail's face, preferably with the cured hide of a razor backed reptilian. 

"In the meantime," Voldemort eased Nagini off of his lap and stood. "Asss much as thossse incompetentss out there don't desssserve it, we ssstill have to acquire more potionssss for them...what do you recommend Wormtail?" 

"W-we could break into the apothecaries ourselves? And their supply companies? And steal potions?" 

"There'sss that, but with so many of our number injured, there will be only so much we can sssteal. I dare say it won't be enough." Voldemort appeared to go into a trance as he pondered the available options. "Wormtail...how proficient are you at casting the imperiousss curssse?" 

"T-tolerably well, sir..." 

"Then acquire an interim potion masssster or two." 

Wormtail's eyes brightened. 

"No, Wormtail, note that I sssssaid interim potion massster' and not permanent potion masssster?'" Voldemort rasped derisively. "You may not like Ssseverus Ssssnape and you'd probably like nothing better than to sssee him gone from our midssst, but you and I both know there isss no potionsss massster as accomplissshed as Sssnape in the entire U.K. He hasss invented sssome of the more...interesssting potionsss we ussse." 

Harry didn't miss the disappointed microgesture on Wormtail's face. He looked as though his favourite bank holiday had just been cancelled. Indefinitely. 

"Take heart my dear rodent," Voldemort grabbed Wormtail's face and forced him to look up. "You will be assssissssting me in breaking The Black Sssnake completely sssoon enough. As faithful as he usually isss, we need him completely broken to assssure his continued loyalty. This will sssurely break every remnant of the black snake'sss ressssistanccce." 

It took every fragment of Harry's will to keep from erupting in rage. He knew if he expressed too intense an emotion, especially anger, Voldemort would surely find out about his covert spying. He pushed his feelings deep and payed attention once more. 

Unfortunately, he never found out what the latest mission was, for Severus shifted once again in his sleep, pulling his arm away in the process. 

Worn from his own injuries, Harry attempted to reestablish the connection, but encountered only a dark, empty abyss for his efforts. Even when the mark on Severus's arm became accessible again, when he turned on his back once more, Harry could not find Voldemort's thoughts. It was no wonder, for The Dark Lord was no longer calling Severus. The Dark Mark was only as warm as the rest of his flesh was. 

Nice and warm. Determined not to disturb Snape, Harry gingerly lay his head on Snape's arm and snuggled against his father's body as both men lay on their sides. Because Harry was still considerably shorter than his father, he felt even more secure, as though his father were literally wrapped around him. 

It was strange. This yearning to belong to some one had followed him virtually all of his life. Even though the Dursleys had always resented him, he had still wanted to please them, at least up until a few years ago. He had not been subservient to them merely to avoid their punishments, but to feel accepted by them, even if he was only seen as a burden to them. He still belonged to them nonetheless, he was their burden. 

When he had met Ron's family, Harry nearly felt envy for his best friend. He had always longed for parents, siblings and a loving home, after all. Thankfully, the Weasleys accepted him as one of their own. Those times at the Burrow had been the happiest in his memories. 

So vehement was Harry's need to belong, that he all but agreed to live with Sirius Black, even though he had been wary of him mere hours before their meeting. Even though Sirius was not a blood relative, the fact that he had ties with his parents, Lily and James Potter, and that he expressed the desire to take Harry in, was enough for him. A living Godfather was far more than Harry had ever dared hope for. Leaving the Dursleys would have only been an added endowment to the enticing package. Harry doubted he would have hesitated to live with him, even if Sirius were indeed a criminal in the true sense of the word. Surely Harry would not consider living with the murderer of his parents, but he would have had no qualms against Sirius if he were merely a burglar, or a sports hooligan. So long as he did not have to bail him out of jail too often. 

Having a living parent was something Harry had never dared to even think about, although he had always yearned for a family. The Mirror of Erised had confirmed that as his deepest desire. All those nights he lay in that darkened cupboard, or later in his bed in Gryffindor tower, he longed to have what other students often took for granted. How pleasant it would be to have a parent concerned for Harry simply because he was Harry and not the boy who lived? And what must it be like to have the memories of countless stories told to him lovingly by a mother or father, as Dudley's parents had done for their son. Even when he entered his teenage years, he still enjoyed the stories Molly Weasley, or Albus Dumbledore told him, at his bedside or elsewhere. 

At other times he just wanted a parent to reassure him that there were not monsters unseen in the darkness. As he grew, the shape of the monsters changed. Last year, loneliness manifested that monster, and pursued Harry relentlessly during his summer spent isolated from the wizarding world. The monster devoured him slowly when he lost his beloved Godfather, Sirius Black . He felt as though the amorphous monster were eating away at his insides, killing him slowly, inexorably... 

Harry was still amazed at how quickly he had clung to Severus Snape when he learned the truth about him. Ironic that this was once the one person in the world, other than Voldemort, that Harry could truly say he hated. Ever since he entered Hogwarts, the man had been a total git towards him, and seemed to be trying to get him, or his friends expelled at the most minuscule provocation. In his haste and anger, Harry had even blamed this man for the death of his Godfather. 

How strange that this should be the same man who grieved for his very life so long ago. Harry's father had loved him, even before the man knew of his existence. Knowing that he was once loved was a remarkable, yet alien, feeling for Harry. He knew that Lily and James had loved him, but it was not something he thought much on. It made him even happier that his father still loved his little green-eyed angel after all these years. The fact that Severus Snape disliked Harry Potter mattered little now. He loved, or at the very least tolerated, his preborn-angel, now flesh, and that was enough for Harry at the moment. 

It was enough. 

Harry fell asleep safely in his father's arms at long last. Never in his life had he felt more content, or secure from anything that could harm him. His father was here now, and everything would be just fine. For the first time, Harry slept without any penumbra of the nightmares which had plagued him virtually every night of his young life thus far. 

And for the first time in years, Severus dreamed not of beatings at the hands of his own father, nor tortures at the hands of Voldemort and the other Death Eaters, or even of the potions which had comforted him when nothing else could. This night, Severus dreamed only of the pre-born angel whose spirit he had felt at times when things seemed their darkest. The spirit he would secretly talk to, when his only companions were the reagents in his labs. In these dreams, the spirit was no longer a spirit, but a living and breathing entity. And the boy loved him, despite time, despite the bad choices he had made, despite the life of a spy he currently led. And for the first time in so many years, Severus allowed himself to begin to reciprocate a small measure of that affection in return.

* * *

The following days were largely spent keeping up with the high demand for potions in the infirmary. Over the next week, more and more wounded people turned up beneath the rubble of ruined buildings where battles had taken place. Still other witches and wizards were discovered wandering aimlessly through wooded areas, or else laying in open fields, too injured or disoriented to hobble to safely. By the end of the week, two entire floors of Hogwarts had been converted into a makeshift hospital to house the wounded. 

Severus and Harry spent many hours talking as they brewed the healing potions, or rather Harry did nearly all of the talking while Severus either listened sullenly, or answered in monosyllables. It seemed pointless to Severus to say much of anything at all, for Harry knew so much about him as it was. 

When Harry spoke of subjects taught in muggle schools however, Severus was keenly interested. He later asked Harry so much about the science of chemistry that the teen quickly became flustered, and fell silent for the rest of the day. 

Although Harry was almost completely healed by the start of the second week, Severus's healing progressed far more slowly, and he needed to rest frequently throughout the day. 

"Here then," Harry would often say, "why not take a healing potion?" 

"NO! I do not require it," or something to that nature, was Severus's reply. 

"But why won't you take a healing potion?" Harry asked, the exasperation more markedly evident each time he repeated the question. 

"That is none of your concern!" 

"And I'm the one who is supposedly arrogant?" Harry said, barely audibly. "You'd have to be far more arrogant to refuse a healing potion when you obviously need one! No need to look so high and mighty all the time, you know." 

"Potter! Mind what you're doing!" Severus hissed, watching in apprehension as Harry stirred the contents of the caldron a little too fiercely, "you've destabilised the compound! Get out of the way!" 

"Wha-?" 

Severus lifted Harry into his arms and staggered a safe distance away, taking cover behind a large caldron. Less than three seconds later, the potion formed a thick froth and exploded, sending pewter fragments and distributing the potion itself throughout the room. 

The hot droplets of potion rained upon the father and son. To Harry, it was no more burdensome than a game a quiditch played during moderate rainfall in warm weather; but to Severus, it was an entirely different matter. Lacerations appeared everywhere the potion came in contact with his flesh, and raised welts resulted in the areas where the potion had soaked through Severus's many layers of black clothing. 

Vociferating softly, and that was because Severus stubbornly kept his mouth closed throughout, Severus sprinted to the washroom, casting his potion-soaked clothes off as he went. 

Thinking that the potion could potentially do the same harm to him, Harry dashed into the washroom after Severus, tearing off his own clothes. He opened the faucets and stood beneath the heavy spray of the shower. He rubbed his skin vigorously, in an effort to rid himself of every vestige of the potion. 

Harry turned his attention to the adjacent shower, where Severus was similarly attempting to wash the potion off of his body. Harry was bewildered at the whole situation. While he had suffered no adverse reactions whatsoever, Severus, by contrast, looked as though he had been exposed to the sulphuric acid rich troposphere of the planet Venus. 

"Father?" Harry could only stare as some of the welts on Severus's pale flesh became more prominent, while others broke open beneath the shower's spray. "What's happening? Why is your body reacting that way? We've both had the potion spilled on us! Are you allergic to it?" 

"Go on with you!" Severus yelled, attempting to cover himself. 

One of the lacerations on Severus's shoulders burst open, sending bright red blood sluicing over his body. "Gods! I'll call Madam Pomfrey..." 

"You'll do no such thing!" Severus grabbed Harry's wrist and pulled him back, causing the youth to slip on the tiles and land hard on the floor. "You'll cleanse both yourself and the mess your carelessness has left in the laboratory!" 

"But what about you? You need..." 

"I need you to stop staring at me like that! One would surmise that you've never seen the body of another human male before." 

"Oh, right," Harry averted his eyes quickly, "sorry sir."

* * *

Later that evening, although Severus insisted that he felt better than he appeared, Harry suspected that something was seriously wrong. The potion accident seemed to have diminished him greatly, odd indeed for one whose livelihood involved potions. Harry questioned him about it, but Severus would either evade the question completely, claim that it was nothing at all to be concerned about, or would simply berate Harry for being an infernal spalpeen who asked too many questions. 

"Harry, that will be enough potions for today." Severus said, looking somewhat more exhausted than normal a few days later. "I need to lie down for a while. Amuse yourself as you wish for the rest of the day." 

"Got a telly father?" Harry joked. 

"A what? Oh. No, of course I haven't got a telly." Severus groused, tossing his soiled lab clothes into the neutralizing potion and sinking into the bath. "Why not try transfiguring something into one? And make it run on something other than eckletricity, for we have no eckelectricity in the castle." 

Harry regarded his father sadly. The condition of the man's wounds did not appear all that much improved, and they still hindered his movements considerably. Moreover, his father had a fever which had persisted for nearly two weeks, no doubt caused in part by the injuries. Fevers were dangerous if they lasted for more than a week weren't they? 

"Well Pot- ...uh...Harry, are you going to stand there all day watching me?" 

"Oh. I'm sorry about staring, I'm just concerned about you, that's all." 

Severus's initial reaction was to scoff. It had been many years since another living soul cared for him, and the fact that Harry resembled James Potter unnerved him even now. "Do you not wish to fly on your broom?" Severus asked, sinking beneath the surface of the bathwater whilst awaiting Harry's answer. 

"No, father," Harry replied softly before Severus resurfaced, "I'm going to heal you as I promised." 

Just as Harry was retrieving his wand, Harry heard a faint pop in the fireplace. "Severus?" came the headmaster's voice. "Harry?" 

"Headmaster Dumbledore?" Harry called, scampering to the main part of Severus chambers to greet the Headmaster. 

Professor Dumbledore stepped through, dark soot all over his flamboyant cobalt robes . "Hello, Harry. How are you this fine day?" 

After a little conversation and a bit more coaxing, the Headmaster managed to convince Harry to leave the dungeons with him. The boy needed some recreation, if not a change of scenery at least. He had not left the dungeons in quite a number of days after all. 

Harry visited with people he knew in the infirmary, as well as with Arthur Weasley, who had his whole family at his bedside today. 

"So tell me Harry," Arthur began, sounding extremely excited. Too excited for a man so badly hurt. "What exactly is an AK-47, and what is its primary function?" 

After an elaborate explanation, and turning all the Weasley's faces pale in the process, Ron and Harry left to walk alone on the school grounds. 

"Is it true that you're getting on with the greasy git now?" Ron asked once they were alone in the courtyard. 

"He's not a greasy git!" Harry shouted in a very uncharacteristic way, looking for a moment as though he were about to punch his best friend. 

"Whoah, sorry mate." Ron backpedalled. "No need to get so angry or anything, it's just that Fred and George said that you were all cuddly with Professor Snape. I figured they were just joking as usual." 

"Joking is what they do best. You know that better than anyone." Harry responded without giving much information at all. He quickly steered the conversation into another, lighter direction. It was pleasant having Ron to talk with again, and the two friends later got onto antiquated school brooms and played a little one on one Quidditch on the deserted pitch.

* * *

Of late, Severus, who Harry and Ron compared with a nocturnal bat in the past, seldom had the energy to remain awake more than a few hours beyond nightfall. As Harry was about to retire, several nights later, Harry noticed Severus thrashing wildly in his sleep. 

"No...no..." Severus protested, struggling against an assailant he saw in his dreams. 

Harry wondered if he should try to wake his father, or if he should just observe for a while. Severus turned flat on his back, appearing as though his arms were being restrained against the bed. He thrashed his head from side to side in an effort to break free, but yelped as though some one had slapped him hard across the cheek. 

"No more! Please, release me! I can bear no more!" Severus screamed arching his back. 

Harry gently placed a hand on his father's forehead, and gasped. Severus's forehead was very warm, perhaps dangerously so. The fever had worsened, in all likelihood, this was all because of the potion master's stubbornness to heal his own wounds. 

Harry could not bear to watch any longer. He grasped Snape's upper arm and shook him gently. "Wake up! It's all right, you're drea..." 

"STOP!" Snape screamed, just as his fist collided with Harry's jaw, sending the youth reeling off of the opposite edge of the bed. 

Although Harry had been punched before by schoolyard bullies, as well as by his own cousin, this blow hurt infinitely more than all of the others combined. Not physical pain exactly. This pain ran far deeper. He knew his father had not intended to hurt him, but Harry could not stem the flow of tears that coursed down his cheeks without the slightest vestige of mercy. 

"Harry?" Severus called wearily, peering over the edge of the bed. 

Harry hid his face in his hands, and turned away, facing the dark granite of the wall. 

End Part Twelve 


	13. Siege on Saint Mungos Hospital For

﻿

** Remembrance and Renewal** by ** Avatar Arkmage** and **Nigel Tatsuya**   
Chapter Thirteen: **Siege on Saint Mungos Hospital For Magical Maladies and Injuries**

Beneath his skin lurked the ghost of a violent father; his own. Severus stared in astonishment at Harry, who recoiled from Severus's violent treatment of him on the floor.

* * *

"Sevvie," Mervidith forestalled her teenaged son. "Let me give him his fever reducer..." 

"It's quite all right, mother." Severus stated, resuming his course up the stairs, and toward the bedroom shared by his parents. 

"You've only been home for two days," Mervidith insisted, seeking to take the vessel from her son's hands. "I don't want you hurt." 

"And do you believe it is any easier for me to watch idly as you're beaten again?" Severus shot back. "Besides, this should not wake him." 

But as Severus crept towards the four poster where Lucien Snape thrashed feverishly, the youth's whole body began to quiver, betraying his trepidation. When it appeared as though the unseen assailants in Lucien Snape's dreams had granted him a few moments of respite, Severus carefully applied the fever reducing salve to his father's forehead. 

Lucien wrapped an arm around Severus's neck, trapping him in a vice-like headlock. "Bloody Hell, boy! You've been brewing potions again?" 

"No, f-father!" Severus stammered on what little air his lungs were allotted. 

"Liar!" Lucien shouted, tightening his hold. He raised the salve too close to Severus's face for the youth to effectively focus on it. "Did you think I would not recognise it? You think I am unaware of your methods of potion brewing? Your potions are very distinct! Distinct in their effectiveness, and even in their smell! You prepared this salve didn't you?" 

Deciding that lying any further would only earn him more of his father's wrath, Severus nodded. 

"You've disobeyed me yet again!" 

"What else would you have had me do?" Severus cried, as Lucien began shaking him. "You're ill!" 

"So leave me be, then! I can heal well enough without you!" Lucien shouted, using his last reserve of strength to punch Severus firmly in the jaw.

* * *

The shame, that he had dealt his own son precisely the same ill treatment his own father had with him, was overpowering. Severus clambered weakly out of bed, and staggered to the boy's side. "Harry?" 

Harry backed away, more as a matter of course, rather than because he truly feared Severus would strike him again. His harsh treatment from adults throughout his life had reinforced this reflexive behaviour a countless number of times. 

"Let me see," Snape demanded in his familiar, though very forced, baritone voice. 

Harry retreated further, still hiding his face in his hands, as he felt himself beginning to cry like a child who had just been punished too harshly for an infraction he had not been guilty of. "It's okay, father." But his voice betrayed him, because his words came out sounding like sobs. 

"No, no, no..." Snape mumbled in silence. It was with great dread and desolation that Severus concluded that he was precisely the kind of parent his own father had been toward him. Harry did not deserve that sort of life. Severus coaxed Harry's hands from his face and examined in abhorrence at the fresh red mark appearing on Harry's jaw. 

Harry attempted to force a smile, but his face twisted in noncompliance, and more tears forced their way from his eyes. "I'm okay, father. Really..." 

Severus's heart sank lower than it already had, if it was at all possible. In Harry's every word, every quavering of his swelling lower lip, and in his every gesture, however small, Severus saw his younger self, fearfully regarding his own father. The high fever rendered his vision into the past clearer than ever, free from the distortions afforded by blissful non-remembrance. 

"I'm sorry, Harry. I'm so sorry." Severus tried to say, but no words came from mouth. How could he have hurt his own son? The question repeated in his mind like a mantra. How could he hurt the very pre-born soul he had pined after for nearly seventeen years? The little green eyed angel? 

Harry took a deep breath. "I know you didn't mean to hit me, father. I shouldn't have tried to wake you. Shaking you like that, I might have hit me too. I probably deserved this, didn't it?" 

Severus could not look away from the darkening bruise on Harry's jaw, even though the mere thought of it utterly repulsed him . "No Harry, thoughtless though you might often be, you did not deserve that. A father should never..." but he could not finish. 

After several more apologies which neither seemed willing to accept, Severus hauled Harry into the loo and washed the youth's bruised face in the basin. He then pried Harry's mouth open and examined the inside, looking for any bruising or other damage the blow might have caused. 

Harry paradoxically enjoyed his father's ministrations, despite the fact that he once again felt like a potion ingredient under the master's intense scrutiny before its addition to the caldron. "Do you know any healing charms?" 

"Of course I do," Severus replied as he palpated the bump Harry had received when his head hit the wall. "Does it hurt here?" 

"No, not at all." 

Severus frowned inwardly at that. He knew very well a contusion of that nature would hurt terribly, and he had asked that question more to gauge Harry's response. Harry had answered in precisely the way Severus would have. He had often denied being in pain, or hurt as well. 

"Father?" Harry called when Severus stood abruptly to retrieve a healing potion from a nearby cupboard. 

Severus turned around, feigning more indifference than he actually felt. 

"Could you... well... uh..." 

"What, Potter?" 

"Could you please heal me?" Harry implored. He wondered why he had requested such a frivolous thing, being that his wounds were so superficial, but he could not recant his words now. Did he merely crave the attentions of his only living parent? 

Still bearing a ponderous burden of guilt at having been the cause of Harry's injuries, Severus tentatively considered the request. Using his own magics could prove to be extremely dangerous, but he had hurt the youth. It was only right that he should make amends for beating his own child. 

Yes, Severus determined. He was not as cruel a father as Lucien Snape had been to him. He hadn't hit Harry out of malice... 

...Or had he...? 

Without a word, Severus herded Harry back to the bed, and secured him between the sheets as though he were packing a large item into a parcel. That was, after all, something fathers all over the world did, wasn't it? He spent more time than necessary fluffing Harry's pillows and adjusting the blankets, as he considered whether or not to grant the request. 

"Very well." Severus said in resignation at last. He hadn't been able to refuse Lily much of anything, especially when her bright green eyes held him in their vice-like gaze. Harry's almost identical eyes did that now, and Severus found he could not refuse his son this, even though it would mean more great injury, or perhaps even death to himself. Is it not better for a youth to be brought up away from an abusing parent, after all? 

'NO!' Severus heard the voice of his younger self admonish him. 'Harry needs you! Would you have seen Lucien Snape dead, rather than endure his beatings?' 

At that, Severus determined that he would channel his magics as cautiously as possible. With any luck, he would not cause himself too much injury. The added pain from the additional wounds would in all likelihood serve as a reminder to be a better father to Harry, than Lucien had been to him. "I will heal you. But I want you to close your eyes." 

"Close my eyes? But why? Madam Pomfrey never..." 

"Do as you're instructed!" 

Harry flinched at the firmness of his father's tone. "Okay, I'm sorry. I didn't want to sound so...so...impertinent, as you would say, I think? 

"Indeed! I'll tolerate no further impertinence from you! Keep your eyes closed until I say otherwise, boy!" 

Harry suppressed a huge smile, and shut his eyes tightly. Evidently fatherhood had done little to change dour Professor Snape, his sharp tongue anyhow. It was enough for Harry that Severus was about to heal him. When he was whole again, Harry vowed to give Severus a big surprise in turn; he'd heal Severus whether he liked it or not, using every healing spell and regeneration charm he knew. 

"You are not to open your eyes until I tell you, understood ?" Severus repeated one final time. 

Harry appeared to regress at least ten years at that point. Having to close his eyes in this manner felt almost like a game of sorts. "Okay okay, go on then!"

* * *

With only the faint light of the waning crescent moon to illuminate the crystal black sky, the darkness was essentially palpable. Every street lamp on the narrow thoroughfare had been extinguished by a wizard's put-outer, leaving only the ghostly silhouettes of the trees and houses in its wake. 

Resolute Manor stood tenebrously against the glinting stars, allowing not a single photon to abscond from either its windows or even its most inconsequential crevice. Soundwaves likewise dared not venture past the wards cast over the entire perimeter of the estate. 

Misrepresenting itself as a dilapidated, and all but abandoned structure, Resolute Manor betrayed nothing of its occupants within. On this night, the Death Eaters, who had been laying low following one of their largest scale raids since Voldemort's second rise, met within the walls of Resolute Manor. Safe from the Aurors patrolling streets throughout Britain. Safe from the banal eyes of the ministry. Safe from interference from The Order Of The Phoenix. 

"But Master!" shrieked Narcissa Malfoy from within Goyle's clutches. "what have we done?" 

"Not ''what you did' persssssonally," Lord Voldemort derided the blonde woman, before casting a sidelong glance at her pale haired son, who went so ashen even his lips lost what little colour they had, "in failing their assssssignment, your incompetent husband and son have selected you as our diverssssion." 

"Diversion for what?" Draco asked with his characteristic sneer. 

"We will need to gain entry into St. Mungosssss hospital tonight," The Dark Lord slunk around Draco and the recruit holding him in a headlock. "Becaussse the hossspital is full, they will only recccceive emergency patientssss. We will accompany thossse patientssss..." Voldemort cast a red-eyed glare at Narcissa, then at Draco, " into the hosssspital. Whilsst they are being sorted out, we will carry out the resssst of our misssssion." 

"Why not just injure some filthy mudbloods and accompany them in?" Narcissa protested, "they would be just as good a diversion as any?" 

"Oh my dear, dear Narcissssa. You will have to pay dearly for quesssstioning me. Just as your ssson, and your husssband must each pay penancccce for their failuresss." Voldemort caressed her cheek in a gesture of mock tenderness. 

"No! Nooo!" Narcissa shrieked as Voldemort motioned to two masked figures, who picked the blonde woman up and threw her into a group of ten Death Eater recruits, who eagerly received the wife of Lucius Malfoy. In another, fluid motion, Voldemort raised his hands and spelled Draco Malfoy into the fray. 

"Amuse yourselves with them as you wish," Lord Voldemort said, looking terribly bored at the scene beginning to unfold before him. He leaned back and watched from his chair, which had been spelled to resemble a stately throne. "This is your reward for your successes in your first mission, my newest recruits." The hooded figures descended on the felled mother and son. " You may do whatever you wish short of permanent disfigurement..." 

A shrill entreaty from Draco halted the Dark Lord momentarily. 

Voldemort continued regardless. " ...crippling or killing them. Narcissa has been a loyal servant to me, and Draco will prove useful when he is older." 

"Then spare him this!" Narcissa screamed. 

"Assss he issss in my servicccce now, he had better learn ssssooner rather than later the price of failure." 

When the montage of voices reached a crescendo, Voldemort motioned toward the double doors leading to the foyer. The ornate oak doors opened to reveal a distressed Lucius Malfoy. Although he was wearing his customary elegant robes, his silvery blonde hair was dishevelled, and the exposed areas of his flesh were covered with the healing bruises he had garnered at the hands of Crabbe Sr. and Goyle Sr. just over a week ago. 

"NOOOOO! Narcissa! Draco!" The genteel man hobbled into the room towards his wife and son, but was restrained by the Crabbe's formidable grip. This time, even the normally aloof Lucius Malfoy was not beyond obsequiousness, and he dropped to his bruised knees before Voldemort. " PLEASE...PLEASE, Master, let them go!" 

"Perhapssss you would care to join them then?" Voldemort regarded Lucius as though he were little more than a foul stench in the room. "They will act as our diversion into St. Mungos. Full, as the hospital may be, they cannot turn away the seriously injured, after all." 

Malfoy's pupils dilated so much in his grey eyes that it gave Voldemort the impression of a descending cumulonimbus storm system in the sky at the first light of dawn. "But..!" 

"Not to worry, my dear Lucius. St. Mungos will keep them as long as it takes to stabilise them." 

"...where will they go afterwards..?" 

"To one of the muggle hospitals in the surrounding area. Surely they will provide the adequate care Narcissa and Draco will require once St. Mungos discharges them." The Dark Lord sneered at the look of pure astonishment on Malfoy's face. "Come now, that expression is most unbecoming of a wizard of your social standing. Surely the thought of those muggles handling your wife and son must be of some comfort...they have advanced in their healing sciences, after all." 

Lucius Malfoy wore a grimace of both incredulity and the purest fright, the thought of muggles tending to his wife and son weighing heavily on his shoulders. "Master, allow me to offer myself in their place." Lucius implored. 

"Are you sssso eager to return to Azkaban?" Voldemort had to speak over Narcissa and Draco's screams. "You know very well the minissstry's pressssenccce is heavy at St Mungosss now. If you turn up for treatment there, you'll be ssssent back to Azkaban as ssssoon as your bones knit...perhapssss even before that." 

Malfoy's heart sank. That had been precisely why he was only partially healed. He hadn't dared show up at St. Mungos for care following the beating he received the previous week, and opted to let Narcissa heal him with what little healing charms she knew. Narcissa had closed most of the open wounds and reset his bones, but she hadn't been able to repair all of the internal injuries. The man's laboured breathing attested to that fact. 

"STOP IT!" Malfoy shouted when he could not longer bear to watch. When neither his fellow Death Eaters, nor the recruits heeded him, he drew his wand and frantically cast curses at his family's assailants. 

"Perhapssss you have nothing againsssst returning to Azkaban after all?" Voldemort cast the cruciatus on Malfoy, sending him sprawling upon the carpeted floor. Crabbe and Goyle eagerly abandoned Draco and turned towards Lucius. When Voldemort lifted the cruse, the two behemoths moved in on him, looking more like wolves with their prey rather than men. 

Voldemort watched with satisfaction as what remained of the Malfoy clan was pummeled in a grisly display. Narcissa, despite her own predicament, tried desperately to shield her son from the carnage, covering his body with her own whenever she managed to break free of her captors, however temporarily it was. Lucius in turn tried to protect both his wife and son, but Crabbe and Goyle seemed to have harboured a death wish which had compounded over the years. Draco proved that not even a bully was beyond tears when hurt.

* * *

Severus dropped his wand to the floor with a resounding clatter, amplified in the silent chambers. Harry, startled by the unexpected sound, opened his eyes to find his father...trembling. 

"What's wrong?" 

"Have I not instructed you to keep your eyes closed, boy?" 

"Oh!" Harry hastened to make amends, not wanting to risk the already tenuous relationship with his newfound family member. "I didn't want to offend you. I-I'm just curious, but I think you already know that. It's all so very sudden, this whole relationship between us, I mean. It was shocking to me as well, but I've been giving it a lot of thought and I'm so easily distracted as it is, I forgot, I couldn't help but look." Harry's voice trailed off in tandem with his sinking beneath the covers. Harry definitely appeared afraid. 

Was Harry worried that he was going to be struck again? 

"Well stop your accursed staring! I distinctly remember instructing you to keep your eyes closed." Severus put a hand on Harry's shoulder, forestalling his retreat further beneath the blankets. Although Severus longed to say many things, they only came out on the wavelengths of silence. 'I shall have to grow accustomed to having more than a spirit for a son.' 

Harry closed his eyes, and willed himself to relax. The task proved much less difficult than he had anticipated. He had never believed that he would have been happy to be in such close proximity to his once hated, snarky and reputedly greasy potions professor. Now he basked in the soothing warmth of his father's healing. He could not have described the feeling, even if he had attempted to do so for lifetime's worth of years. Severus's healing magics were as soothing to him as warm milk, perhaps. Perhaps like slipping out of freezing, wet clothing , into a dry and warmed blanket whilst sitting before a fireplace. 

Severus opened his mouth wide in a voiceless scream. He could barely endure the sheer agony of using his magic, and it took every bit of his will to keep from alerting his son to this fact. Although he did his best to channel his energy, and use as little magic as was needed to heal Harry's wounds, he felt his flesh ripping off of his bones in both his arms and his legs. The pain spread from his extremities inward, causing him feel as though his insides had been set ablaze whilst he were being eviscerated by a Medieval inquisitor. 

Yet, Severus Snape willingly bore the pain, as if to punish himself for treating his own son the way his father had so often treated him. Just then, searing heat from the Dark Mark began to emanate throughout Snape's entire left arm. Because he was already in more pain than if he had had twenty Cruciatus curses cast on him simultaneously, and he did not notice the call of his Dark Mark this time .

* * *

The ambulance, disguised to look like a furniture delivery truck, reversed towards the emergency entrance of St. Mungos Hospital. The entrance was hidden in a dirty alley, and spelled heavily by muggle repelling charms. The hospital emergency staff rushed into the alley and levitated the wounded mother and son from the back of the truck. 

"Are you the next of kin?" a mediwizard asked Wormtail, who was so nervous that he acted the part of ''distraught family member' without even making an attempt at it. 

"Y-yes sir." 

"Good, fill out these forms then proceed to the security desk." the mediwizard guided the trembling man toward the reception area and handed him a stack of parchments. 

In the hidden smuggling compartment of the ambulance/delivery truck, Voldemort turned towards a very battered Lucius Malfoy. "You sssshould thank me for my generosssssity, Malfoy. Your wife and ssssson are being well cared for." 

Lucius just stared at Voldemort with his puffy, grey eyes. His jaw had been broken, and his tongue was grossly swollen, rendering him unable to speak. 

"Bacterian will transport you safely to a muggle hospital straightaway." Voldemort relished the look of terror in the beaten man's eyes, before exiting the compartment. 

Before leaving the delivery truck, Voldemort put on casual azure robes and cast a glamorie charm on himself. Save for his eyes, which retained their serpentine red irises, Voldemort looked almost like his former self, Tom Riddle. 

Voldemort laughed maniacally as the delivery truck carrying Lucius Malfoy drove off. From his own muggle father, Voldemort had learned the fear of muggle hospitals and their barbaric methods of treating the wounded. Now Lucius Malfoy, and later his family, would learn first hand. 

The disguised Dark Lord walked to the other side of Purge and Dowse, Ltd. and into another dark alley. He tapped his forearm once more as he did shortly before they arrived. "Severusss..." he called.

* * *

Ever since word of the Dark Lord's second rise had spread throughout the magical world, security measures had been enhanced in virtually all public areas and municipal buildings. St. Mungos Hospital, whose patients now included several high profile witches and wizards, enhanced their security tenfold; warding every entrance and screening each visitor being amoung the many measures employed. 

Once the mediwizard had returned to the triage area, Wormtail ducked into the loo and transformed into a rat. He made his way through the ventilation ducts and removed a ward from a staff entrance, admitting his master undetected into the hospital. 

"Good work, Wormtail." The very human-looking Voldemort said, picking up the rat and running up the stairwell to the Fourth Floor. 

By this time, the security unit of the hospital had detected the breech and were in pursuit of the intruders. 

Voldemort cast powerful ward dispersal charms along the way towards the Spell Damage ward. Even though he could not fully break each of them, the disrupted them enough to allow him passage as well as to scramble their ability to identify him as the intruder. 

"Halt!" a security witch, who had plotted and predicted the direction Voldemort was headed, and a small unit of security personnel met Wormtail and Voldemort at the landing to the fourth floor. Their wands were drawn. 

Without preamble, Wormtail jumped out of Voldemort's hands and rushed the dark-blue robed unit, transforming back into his human form as he did. He continued sprinting towards the unit, forcing them to cast curses his way. Wormtail dropped to the floor at the last moment, sliding several feet across the floor. The curses missed him completely, and before any of them could cast a second curse, he knocked three guards onto the floor. 

Voldemort ducked the first round of curses and pointed his finger at the lead security witch. "AVADA KEDAVRA!" 

The security witch fell dead. The green glow persisted for several seconds after she fell, as though her soul were trying to fight off her inevitable death. 

Wormtail proceeded to cast curses indiscriminately, effectively stunning any of the security personnel, and mediwitches and wizards who arrived shortly thereafter on the scene. 

Voldemort stunned anyone who wasn't already stunned by the horrific turn of events and made his way from room to room, searching for the mother of Severus Snape.

* * *

"Master!" Wormtail shrieked, following his master into one of the patient's rooms in a way that would have almost appeared comical if the situation weren't so serious. "They've alerted the ministry!" 

"Not to worry," Voldemort said, motioning towards a woman with ivory white hair, crystal black eyes and aquiline facial features. "We have found who we came for." 

From a lonely chair next to her bed, Mervidith Snape just stared in the direction of Peter Pettigrew and the transformed Voldemort with her fathomless, unseeing eyes.

* * *

Professor Severus Snape could barely steady his wand hand as he continued to work at the bruise on Harry's mandible. Using his opposite hand for support, he moved his wand even closer to the reddened flesh, hoping to use an even smaller quantity of his magic to heal the very bruise he himself had caused. 

Harry marvelled at how his father's healing differed from any of his previous treatments. Madam Pomfrey's ministrations had always been rapid and straightforward, bringing the fastest possible relief from pain, while at the same time minimizing the risk of infection. Muggle healers, or medical doctors were often acerbic, businesslike, and all but worshiped their sciences. Yet without the use of magic, muggle doctors relied on their patients to do most of the healing on their own, once surgeries had been performed, and the medications had been administered. Gilderoy Lockhart's healing had not hurt initially, but the Skele-Gro osteoregenesis procedure felt even worse at times, than the initial injury, if that were possible. 

The soothing, healing magics emanating from Severus's body, and through his ebony wand, awakened more than tangible sensations. Harry could almost hear the healing energies playing over him like a reassuring sonata in which every tone could be timed to the nanosecond. Every note like the voice of an instrument of the highest quality. The conductor, his meticulous father, the very personification of excellence and proficiency. 

All too soon for Harry, the healing session concluded. After a fleeting moment's contemplation, Harry determined that he would only venture to the hospital wing if he were seriously hurt, and ask his father to heal any future injuries personally otherwise. Parents usually are the primarily healers for their children aren't they? What with all the skinned knees and falls that little children have, and the bumps and bruises they get when they are older, parents have to do a lot of healing, don't they? Following that reasoning, Harry determined that Severus Snape owed him a lot of back payments in healing. 

Harry opened his eyes at the sound of hurriedly retreating footsteps. Although Severus had told him not to open his eyes until told to do so, Harry focused just in time to see the door to the washroom slamming.

* * *

Severus could not easily recall ever being in so much pain. His skin had ripped itself open in several places to relieve the tremendous quantities of energy surging beneath. His muscles cried for relief from the searing heat his own magics had generated, and spasmed violently when its requests were repeatedly denied. Even his blood burned in the places where it oozed from the torn flesh. 

For the first time in his life, Severus empathized with the stars, for he felt as though his insides were engaging in nuclear fusion and nucleosynthesis. Surely his very core would give at any moment, and he'd burn, like a young star shining for the first time as a Zero-Age-Main-sequence-Star; or an expended star going nova. 

The burning had to be extinguished. It simply had to be. 

Severus opened the cold tap and waited for the eternity that it took the tub to fill. While doing so, he pulled off his nightshirt and nearly gasped aloud at the sight of the lacerations on his torso and extremities. He looked as though he had been fighting a war singlehandedly against an army whose foot-soldiers consisted of bloodthirsty grappling hooks, and whose cavalry were psychotic heated pincers. 

When the tub nearly overflowed , Severus gingerly eased into the tepid water, feeling some relief immediately. After immersing himself for nearly fifteen minutes, he drained some of the water and opened the cold tap once more, replenishing the blessed coolness of the water. 

He knew he would have to seek assistance from Poppy, but in a little while...Eventually, perhaps after he asked the house elves to add crushed ice to the bath.. 

"Father?" came Harry's voice from behind the closed door after several more minutes. 

"Bugger OFF!" Snape shouted. 

"Are you okay? You've been in there for quite a while. Harry querried, starting to open the door. "Do you have a stomachache or something?" 

"YES!" retorted Snape without even thinking. He was in too much agony to prepare his responses adequately. "I mean I uh..uh... I have a headache." 

"You have a headache?" Harry repeated, wondering why his father was taking a bath, when he had already had one before he retired for the night. Was bathing how Severus dealt with headaches? 

"YES I HAVE A HEADACHE!" Severus yelled. 

"I'm sure you have something in there that can..." Harry immediately opened the cabinet just outside the door and began to look for the headache reliever potion. 

"You're the bloody headache!" Severus growled, sinking a little deeper in the tub. "Just GO AWAY!" 

Harry would have been offended, if not very hurt, at Severus's last command if he did not notice then that the bath water had a light red tinge to it. The colour was even more marked against Severus's porcelain white skin. 

"Father?" Harry said, so concerned that his face turned nearly as white as his father's. "What's the matter? What's wrong?" 

"Nothing!" Severus did his best to keep every iota of pain out of his voice, but failed when an involuntary cry escaped him as pain ripped down his left arm. 

Harry shut the door to the potions cabinet and approached the bathtub. 

"Go away, HARRY!" Severus reached for a towel, more to cover his wounds than his nakedness, but the towel rack was too far away. "Just go back to bed, Harry... STAY AWAY from me!"

* * *

Voldemort stalked over to the snowy haired woman and caressed her chin in a gesture of mock kindness. Mervidith Snape was totally unresponsive, and remained so even when The Dark Lord grabbed her by the hair and hauled her toward the narrow, barred window. 

"It'sssss a pity we are not more at leissssure, Mrssss. Ssssnape." Voldemort hissed at the woman with aquiline features, and motioned toward the other end of the room. "Ssssince you obviousssly weren't ussssing your bed for sssssleeping this night, no doubt we can find another use for it." 

Mervidith did not react, even as Voldemort started caressing her long hair and breathing in her scent. 

"M-Master..." Peter Pettigrew interrupted Voldemort's lustful musings. "The guards are right outside the door!" 

"Take her out into the alley!" Voldemort motioned towards the window and roughly shoved Mervidith into Wormtail's arms. The cowering, tawny haired man wrapped an arm around the woman's narrow waist and went to work on the heavily warded window. 

Voldemort slunk across the room lay in wait just to the side of the door. Just as an auror kicked the heavy door open, Voldemort sent the killing curse not just to the auror, but to the people accompanying him; two aurors and a hospital orderly. 

"I-I got it open!" Wormtail triumphantly held the bars in the air, and spelled the glass away. 

"Let'sssss go!" With that, Voldemort wrapped an arm around Mervidith and the other around Wormtail and floated through the open window, replacing the bars on the window once they were clear of the building. 

Voldemort floated three and a half stories down before dropping both Wormtail and Mervidith to the pavement. Once on the ground, Voldemort dragged Mervidith down a sidestreet and into a deserted warehouse, effectively losing the aurors and the hospital security guards who had spent a little too much time trying to get past the warded bars on the window. 

The Dark Lord flung Mervidith onto a pile of rags and began to tap his wand on his arm. "Severus! Severussssssss." He called in a voice about as sweet as an elixir of cyanide. 

Although Wormtail looked just as nervous as he always did, he could hardly wait to see the expression on Snape's face when he finally showed up. Without the ability to apparate or use any magical means to make the journey, Severus would surely take hours to arrive. What would Snivellus do when Voldemort broke his mother's neck right in front of him.

* * *

"But Mr. Malfoy!" a young mediwizard called out to the battered Draco, who was hastily putting on some robes which had been delivered by one of the Malfoy's elfin servants. "You don't have medical clearance to leave!" 

"Oh give over with your foolish clearance!" the fair haired boy sneered. "I can walk out of here whenever I want!" 

The orderly crossed his arms over his chest."Then try it!" 

Draco haughtily took a few steps towards the door out of the triage room before faltering. He stubbornly righted himself and managed to take two steps into the hallway before collapsing to the floor in pain. He would have punched the ground in frustration, but his knuckles were already badly mangled and bruised. 

The expression on the mediwizard's face softened. "Draco, you can see your mother when you're a little better. Right now, all you can do is rest while the potions and charms do their work." 

"Is my mother okay?" Draco asked, carefully keeping his head turned to the floor. 

"Uh..." The mediwizard started to help Draco back out of his street clothes and into his hospital gown. "You can see her when you're better." 

"She's okay though isn't she?" Draco persisted, fending off the wizard's hands. 

"She will be..." the mediwizard said, sounding very unsure. 

"Where is father?" 

"Who?" 

Draco rolled his eyes. "My father you simpleton! You know, Lucius Malfoy." 

The youthful mediwizard looked shocked. "Isn't he still in Azkaban?" 

Draco's disdainful expression faded. "Oh...oh...Never mind, I must have been hit on the head too hard. I forgot for a moment where he was." He hoped the mediwizard would take his word for it and not pursue the issue further. 

The mediwizard regarded the aristocratic youth quizzically, but asked nothing else.

* * *

"A pity you'll be going to your own death sssshortly, Mrsss. Ssssnape." Voldmort crooned, smoothing the woman's silvery hair. "You'd make a wonderful play thing ." MOThe sound of the warehouse door opening drew both Voldemort's and Wormtail's attention. 

Into the empty warehouse walked Professor Severus Snape. An extremely angry looking Professor Snape... 

End Part Thirteen 


	14. When A Servant Dares To Rebel

**Remembrance and Renewal** by ** Nigel Tatsuya** and **Avatar Arkmage**   
Chapter Fourteen:**When A Servant Dares to Rebel**

Professor Severus Snape, who wore his customary billowing black robes more tightly around himself than usual, advanced spectre-like into the spacious warehouse. 

"Snivelly!" Wormtail stammered, hardly believing that Severus had arrived so soon, yet there he was. Unless Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry had developed both motility and cognizance in the last thirty or so minutes, and had transported itself to London, there was no readily apparent way Severus Snape could have arrived so quickly without the use of magic. 

Just a little over a week ago, Peter Pettigrew had watched his fellow Death Eaters drag the trounced form of Severus Snape into the parlour of the dark manor after subjecting him to hours of torture. Peter had even led the others in a chorus of laughter at 'Snivellus,' as the wounded man tried desperately to right himself whilst being so unsteady on his feet. It was with an even greater amusement that Peter had watched Voldemort pry Snivelly's mouth open and pour the louche Interventio Interferus potion down his throat. To make sure that Snape could not spit the potion out before it could have taken effect, Voldemort enlisted the assistance of two eager new-inductees, who held Snape down while Voldemort compressed the dark haired man's nose and covered his mouth. 

Wormtail was dumbfounded. How had Severus done it? The Interventio Interferus potion would surely cause his demise if Severus even attempted the quantity of magic required to apparate. Even if travelling by broom for such a distance were even feasible in the allotted time, the magic the broom required would have caused Snivelly severe injuries. Severus would have died in the floo network if he had attempted to use it, and a portkey would have yielded similar results. Unless the muggles had developed a method of ground travel which far superceded the velocity of sound waves, or else the basic laws of physics had been drastically altered in the past half hour or so, Severus Snape had somehow safely used magic to apparate from Hogwarts to London. 

Yet Severus Snape stood just a few metres away, watching with barely repressed anger as The Dark Lord manhandled his mother. 

Without a note of prelude, unless enraged caterwauling could be construed as such, Severus closed the distance between them . He struck Voldemort where his nose should have been with such force, that the repulsive sound of fracturing bones filled the silence of the vacuous warehouse with its grisly refrain. The glamourie charm on Voldemort's features faltered, showing a very broken, reptilian face beneath. Copious measures of oddly-coloured blood splattered in all directions, making the surrounding area quickly resemble an executioner's domain or a slaughter house. 

Before the Dark Lord could recover enough to retaliate, or even to utter a shielding charm to defend himself, Severus smote him again, his fist glowing eerily with his magics like a heated chunk of steel. He was seated on the Dark Lord's torso less than a tenth of a second after his fist had hit home, and was striking the cloaked figure with a rapid succession of glowing, clenched fists. 

Mervidith Snape, whose white hair now bore red splotches from where the Dark Lord's blood had tainted it, neither flinched nor made to move away from the carnage. The meek woman merely stared straight ahead with her sparkling, yet distant crystal black eyes. She neither grimaced at the sound of the Dark Lords groans, nor the sounds of his bones fracturing. She just remained on the precise location Voldemort had tossed her just moments before, like a living corpse. Alive, but not living. Living, but not alive. 

'Snivelly got his magic back!' Wormtail thought in terror to himself. 'But how? And could it be that he's actually stronger than he was before? Snivellus never put his magic energies behind his fists like that!' 

Wormtail could not remember Severus ever dueling with his fists. Sure he exchanged blows with Sirius and James when they were teens, and had struck out at them fiercely in self-defense. but he had never put so much magic behind his fists while doing so. Severus was a proficient dueler to be sure, but hand to hand combat was not his customary method of operations. At least it hadn't been until today. 

Severus temporarily ceased the onslaught on Voldemort to tenderly push his mother out of the line of fire. Then he turned back and continued to pummel the confounded Dark Lord as though his mission was to literally beat the Dark Lord to death. The magic in the air around them was so heavy that Wormtail could feel the scintillating energy pulses from his vantage point several metres away. 

The Dark Lord had no choice but to back away, in the hopes of acquiring enough space between them to utter a countercurse. Strike that, he had to get away if he hoped to survive. Severus did not permit him the luxury, and matched the Dark Lord's every step backward with two steps forward. Voldemort had barely wriggled centimetres away, when Severus wrapped his slender, glowing fingers around Voldemort's serpentine throat and lifted him off of the floor. 

Afraid of what would happen, but wanting to save his master even more, Wormtail drew his wand and moved towards the two contenders. Severus sensed his motions, and raised his palm in the cowering man's direction. 

"Noooooo!" A pulse of pure energy thrust Wormtail across the vacant warehouse and into a wall on the far end. 

"Severusssss," Voldemort hissed, his red eyes looking glazed in death as he felt his windpipe nearly close. 

"You...you bloody pillicock!" Severus shouted. "You stole enough from me!" As an emphasis to his last word, Severus slammed the Dark Lord into the concrete floor and pounced on him again. As though there had been no intermission, Snape resumed his onslaught, this time adding stout slaps and backhanded blows to the hand to hand combat arsenal. 

Voldemort's immediate concern was simply to survive. Defence and retaliation were only distant aspirations, luxuries for another time, if there were another time at all. He was suffering now, but more so, Voldemort was perplexed. In all the years he had known Severus, the man had not seemed more violent or more out of control than he did at this moment. But there was no doubt that this was indeed Severus Snape. Voldemort could feel the signature of the Dark Mark on the man's arm. The Mark could be felt no more than a heartbeat away. 

Not willing to yield entirely, Voldemort clenched a fist, and attempted a similar attack; the magically powered blow impacted deep in Snape's lithe belly, knocking at least some of the wind from him. Oddly, Severus apparently regarded the blow as though it were no more incapacitating than a maple leaf blown in the wind, and continued his relentless assault on Voldemort. 

It was a blast from Wormtail's wand that knocked Snape off of his lord, and sent him sprawling to the concrete floor. That moment's respite was all The Dark Lord needed to regain some semblance of the advantage he was accustomed to holding over his victims. He pointed at fallen man and uttered an incantation, but he had too much blood in his eyes to see clearly, and the spell barely grazed the intercoastal spaces of Snape's ribcage. 

Snape cried out as searing pain flashed and echoed through his left side. He rolled onto his opposite side and somehow dragged himself to his feet. The side of his robes were quickly saturated with blood, but its black colouration betrayed nothing of the severity of his bleeding. 

Had Voldemort's aim been more accurate, he would surely have been mortally injured, Severus reminded himself. His anger not abated, his bloodlust unsated, Severus launched himself back at the Dark Lord, his spelled fists ripping and tearing the evil wizard's flesh, and crushing his bones. 

Wormtail interfered once again, but this time, it was not to procure his master time to gain an advantage. Wormtail bashed Severus over the head with a discarded plank, and dragged the wounded Dark Lord away. 

"Damn you, Peter Pettigrew!" Severus growled smacking his former classmate in the temple, whilst he himself was still markedly dazed. "Always backing the biggest bullies!" Snape punched him again, and this time, Peter fell. "Well what do you think now? Thinking of changing sides yet, turncoat?" 

Before Snape could strike him again, Peter Pettigrew jumped to his feet and sprinted out the door of the warehouse. Infuriated anew, Snape took off like a shot after him. There was nothing he wanted to do more than to kill Voldemort and Wormtail...yes both of them, in precisely that order. 

"Petrificus Totalis!" Snape shouted, effectively halting Peter and sending him skidding several yards down the sidewalk from the inertia of his subsequent fall after running. Too angry to utter the mobilicorpus charm coherently, Severus grabbed one of Peter's still outstretched ankles and dragged him back into the warehouse. 

Snape was met by a powerful blast when he reentered the vacant building. The charge sent him reeling backward, striking his head against the warehouse door. Severus did not realise until too late that the severed arm he had been carrying in an inner pocket of his robes, fell to the warehouse floor. 

Voldemort and Wormtail stared aghast at the grisly object. It was indeed an arm, evidently severed from its body at the elbow. Its finger tips twitched slightly in the clear fluid surrounding it, in its transparent and pliable package, which Voldemort concluded had been manufactured in a muggle factory. On the severed limb's forearm, was the Dark Mark, still glowing from Voldemort's earlier summoning. 

"You are not Severusss Ssssnape, but that isss hisss arm, issn't it? " hissed Voldemort. "Who are you? How did you acquire my loyal servant'sss arm?" 

"Your SERVANT?" 'Severus screamed.' "I'm your ruddy demise, you mean!" 'Severus' was now so obviously dazed from the blow to the head that his aim would be about as accurate as Voldemort's had been several minutes ago. Fortunately, the Dark Lord was also too wavering in his posture that he was not likely to be able to duel properly. He had taken too many blows to the head and had too much blood in his eyes to see clearly. Whomever the Severus Snape imposter was, he was still at an advantage, 

They would have to fight at another time. 

With that, Voldemort turned tail and apparated away, taking Wormtail with him. 

"Come back here at once! Come back and fight, you todgeless..!" 

'Severus Snape' looked everywhere in the vicinity, but could not find his quarry. After a few minutes passed, he returned to the woman on the old rags and collapsed next to her, his body too spent to do much else. Within the next twenty minutes, he felt the polyjuice potion start to wear off. He felt burning behind his eyes and realized that the potion wearing away in that region first. 

"So," he felt rather than heard Mervidith's voice somewhere deep in his mind. "You survived, my precious grandson. Little Green Eyed Angel." 

Harry looked up excitedly at Mervidith Snape, his grandmother. It was with great desolation that he realized that she had apparently not moved, and couldn't have said anything. Her dark eyes still stared straight ahead of her, unseeing. 

Did he long after a family for so long that he was imagining things? "Oh, grandmother!" Harry cried out, his previous anger and fury turning to grief and horror as the magnitude of the night's events came flowing back to him just as the tears flowed from his eyes. He threw his arms around the slight form his grandmother, and just held her for a long, quiet moment. 

To an onlooker, the scene would appear to be a cruel paradox, Harry mused. An echo of a scene he himself had witnessed as a spirit, in which his own father clung to this very woman, in very much the same way. Now, without all the effects of the polyjuice potion gone yet, the scene must have looked like a horrible rerun. 

"Can you not respond, grandmother?" Harry implored, feeling tears threaten as he clutched the woman's fragile form tighter. "Grandmother!" Unlike his father had done all those years ago, Harry did little to restrain his tears, and cried freely when they overpowered him. He allowed those quiet tears to relieve him of some of the anguish that had plagued him for most of his life, and his sobs free him from his anger at being deprived of first his parents, then his father and grandmother. None but his grandmother' silent and empty shell would hear him anyway. If she were even aware of him at all. 

When he had composed himself somewhat, Harry gently took the woman's limp hands and wrapped them around himself. He thought he felt the woman's fingers lovingly caress his still long, black hair for a moment, but realized that he must have only imagined it. Mervidith Snape was no more. "I guess you're probably wondering what this is all about, eh Grandmother? And what I'm doing here?" 

Although Mervidith did not respond, Harry continued notwithstanding. "I guess I should probably tell you why I'm doing this, then. I hope you're not too disappointed that it is only I, Harry, and not your son... You're probably wondering why I'm posing as my own father." Harry glanced at the severed arm, still laying on the floor within its sterile package. "Yes, and I'll tell you what I'm doing with my father's arm as well."

* * *

"CHO!" Harry cried as he entered the infirmary carrying the damp, limp form of Professor Severus Snape. 

Oddly, 'Cho' did not readily respond to her name, but helped Harry place the wounded form of Severus Snape on an empty triage bed. 

"Not that I don't trust you or anything, Cho," Harry said, standing protectively between his father and the other, "but where's Madam Pomfrey?" 

"She's asleep at the moment. Poor dear, she's been on duty for so long," 'Cho' replied, whilst hastily reading Professor Snape's chart. 

"But Cho, you're only a year older than I am! You can't have learnt enough to heal him!" Harry cried frantically. "Wake Madam Pomfrey! Actually I'll wake her..." 

"You'll do no such thing, young man!" 'Cho' forestalled him firmly, charming Harry into a chair just outside the triage area, "now calm yourself, and tell me exactly what happened to Professor Snape." 

"But, Cho..." Harry wanted to hick himself again. While this woman was similar to Cho Chang both in height and build, and had similar, long, glossy black hair, she was indeed not Cho. She wore the lime green robes and the insignia of St. Mungos Hospital, indicating that she was a mediwitch. She also appeared to be somewhat older than Cho. 

"While it's rather flattering that you've confused me with my own teenaged daughter, I'm not Cho Chang." The mediwitch explained. " I'm Ayame Chang, of St. Mungos Hospital. Now tell me what's happened, so I can know how best to help him." 

Headmaster Albus Dumbledore arrived a few minutes later and looked pityingly at both Harry and his father in turn. Despite the fact that Dr. Ayame Chang recommended that Harry wait outside the triage area, he refused to leave his father's side. 

"I thought he would have known better than to attempt to use his magic?" the headmaster stated to no one in particular. 

"Why would he have 'known better?' " Harry said, anger creeping into his voice. 

Ayame Chang, who was currently suturing a long tear along Severus's side in the muggle manner, swallowed hard. "Did Professor Snape not tell you?" 

"NO! He didn't tell me anything! He never tells me anything! I'll bet if all the toilets in the UK exploded, and the International Space Station were going to crash in Hogsmeade because the UK toilets in it exploded, he wouldn't be the one to tell me about it!" Harry shouted at Dr. Chang louder than he had intended. 

"Come along Harry, and leave the Mediwitch to it." Albus said, attempting to coax Harry from his father's side. 

"NO!" Harry shouted even louder, startling the already startled Dr. Chang, and causing her to drop a tube of surgical adhesive. Harry made to hold his father's hand, but Severus's arm spasmed violently, then fell off at the elbow. 

Severus Snape opened his eyes wide, the expression of pure agony on his face markedly apparent. He screamed and passed out again. 

"Good Heavens!" said Madam Pomfrey, entering the room whilst yawning. "What is the meaning of all the shouting? I'd not be surprised if all the patients in this ward are..." She saw the severed limb in Harry's arms. "Oh dear, better give that to me quickly, we'll have to reattach that." 

"Poppy, it would probably be safer to wait for a while." Dr. Chang motioned to her case of muggle medical supplies. "Better preserve his arm for the time being." 

"WHAT?" Harry shouted. "But...!" 

"...the magics from his Dark Mark itself will do his body more damage." Dr. Chang finished, apparently not overly disturbed by Harry's frantic behaviours. 

"Been inhibiting his healing all this time too! Probably exactly what the Dark Bastard is hoping to accomplish!" Poppy uncharacteristically cursed under her breath as she rifled through Dr. Chang's large black bag, and withdrew the items she would require. Madam Pomfrey cleansed the severed arm with gauze soaked in antiseptics. Then she put the arm and the contents of two bottles of a clear fluid into a soft plastic sleeve. She nervously added what looked like a magical potion which interacted badly to Snape's arm, but the damage was inconsequential when compared to the damaged caused by the magics already coursing from the Dark Mark. Poppy then sealed the package, uttered an incantation, and placed it in a portable cooling unit. 

Harry looked into the unit, and noticed that the potions within the bag appeared to be pumping through Snape's arm, as though it were acting as a blood substitute. No doubt, that would keep the arm alive until it could be reattached. The arm continued to twitch strangely, like some display at a muggle haunted house. 

"Come along Harry," Dumbledore led Harry out of the room as both Madam Pomfrey and Dr. Chang continued working on Severus's injuries, which were all bleeding heavily. 

Dumbledore, perplexed as to why Severus had not said anything to his own son himself, explained to Harry about the Interventio Interferus potion and its effects, and why magic could not be used on or around Severus. 

"Oh NO!" Harry could barely disguise his anguish. "I asked him to heal me!" His voice broke as he started to cry in earnest. " I asked him to heal me!" 

The rest of the evening's events went by in a great blur for Harry, as though he were merely an observer, and his body had been taken over by another entity. He watched as he calmed himself, and promised Albus that he was going to retire to the dungeons and attempt to sleep. But the moment Dumbledore left the dungeons, Harry doubled back to the infirmary. 

He saw himself, not return to his father's bedside, but to YiChung Chang's. The real Cho Chang was seated in the chair next to her grandfather's bed, her head resting on the old dragon/man's chest as they both slept. As before, there were tears on her face, and Harry guessed it was because she was so worried for her Grandfather. Now that he had a relative of his own, he could empathise somewhat. He was at least as concerned for Severus. 

Harry was astonished as he watched himself roughly lift Cho off of her grandfather, and shake her awake. 

"Hunh?" she asked, her chocolate coloured eyes glazed over in slumber. At this point, she probably thought Harry to be nothing more than a dream. 

"Cho," Harry whispered. "Listen to me, I need your help. Help me, please!" 

"Help you?" Cho asked incredulously. Her expression softened to concern at the sight of tears in her former love interest's eyes. "Oh alright, sure, Harry, I'll help. I'll help you first thing in the morning. Good night." She made to return to the warmth of her grandfather's chest. 

Harry pulled her to her feet. "Cho? Cho please, I need your help now." Cho had been in such a deep sleep when Harry had roused her that she wobbled, rather than stood, on her legs. "Come along." 

Too tired to protest or argue, Cho allowed Harry to lead her out of the infirmary and into one of the school's fireplaces. Once in the dungeons, Harry guided Cho towards the racks of potions in Snape's labs. 

"Cho, you're in Professor Snape's advanced potions class, right?" Harry asked. 

"Uh huh..." Cho said, barely suppressing a yawn. 

"Did you study the polyjuice potion?" 

"Uh huh?" Cho's eyes opened a bit wider, but she still did not appear to be fully awake. "You needed help on that? In the middle of the night?" 

"Well," Harry stopped to gaze at the racks behind Cho. "Did he ever mention in class about making any modifications to the potion?" 

"Oh yes. Professor Snape often improves on potions, even develops new ones himself." Cho said, leaning on the rack for support. "He even has the patents on..." 

"Did he do anything to the polyjuice potion?" 

Cho looked slightly more awake now. "Yes in one of the last classes of the year, he showed us some variants of the polyjuice potion. One is a delayed potion. You don't change into the other person so quickly, but gradually, and when you do, you stay as that person for several hours as opposed to only one hour." 

"Anything else?" Harry pressed. 

"Two variants require the other person's blood." Cho said, yawning again. "One of them lasts and hour and acts quickly, while the other causes you to change gradually, but you stay as the other person for longer." 

"Could you show me? Are any of these potions the Polyjuice Variants?" Harry asked, motioning to the racks. "Does Snape have any already made?" 

Without a verbal response, Cho moved down the racks, examining each bottle as she passed, her long black hair brushing the racks as she passed. Harry's heart sank when she reached the end of the row and sank to the floor. There must not have been any polyjuice. 

Cho suddenly rose to her feet again, holding a bottle of a lime-coloured substance marked PJ4. "This one, is an experimental polyjuice potion Professor Snape said he was developing." 

Harry dropped to examine the rack Cho was at. 

"This is the only one. There's no more." Cho sighed. 

"What does it do?" Harry asked, taking the bottle from her. 

"I believe the 4th formulation changes you over several minutes and lets you stay changed for...sorry Harry, I do not remember exactly how long. I'm so tired." Cho looked about ready to fall back to sleep. 

"Thanks Cho," Harry figured he'd better lead her back to the infirmary before she was alert enough to think to start asking questions. With any luck, she would not remember these events at all. He knew at once why he had asked Cho for help and not anyone else. Any of the Weasleys would have questioned Harry too much, even whilst tired, and Ron didn't study potions enough to be much of a help anyway. If Hermione had been here, she would have been a great help, but would have tried to stop Harry once it became apparent what he planned to do. No doubt Hermione would tell Dumbledore, Madam Pomfrey and any other adult who would listen about what he was up to. That would have been disastrous. 

Once Cho was sleeping soundly on her grandfather's scaley chest once more, Harry stole into the triage area. He tiptoed past Dr, Chang and Madam Pomfrey, who were asleep side by side in their chairs, and leaning on each other for support. Both women were exhausted from the endless line of patients that required their care, and neither stirred as Harry passed. 

Harry looked in on his father, and noticed that he appeared to be in a very deep sleep, possibly tranquilised with muggle medicines. He was completely motionless, except for his shallow breathing, but otherwise, his wounds were bandaged and he looked to be in good hands. Harry moved closer to the cooling unit, and covertly withdrew the arm from within. 

"You're still calling him, aren't you, you bastard?" Harry said at the sight of the Dark Mark, which was scintillating faintly. Although Harry had not learned to apparate yet, he figured it was easy enough to do. Once he was outside of the gates, he held the arm close to himself and touched the Dark Mark, which was still glowing. He concentrated on where it willed him to go...

* * *

"And that, grandmother, is what happened tonight and how I got here." Harry confessed, never once releasing his precious grandmother from his embrace. In turn, Mervidith Snape never once loosened her hold on her grandson. 

"I know what I've done was stupid! And weak! And thoughtless!" Harry went on. "Now father will be in more trouble because of me. I was too soft on Voldemort! I hesitated when I shouldn't have! He was alone, except for that human suction cup, Wormtail, but they were only two people! I should have killed Voldemort!" 

The feeling of shame over his actions was overpowering, and Harry lowered his head, glad that his grandmother could neither hear, nor see him. "You're probably thinking: 'what a weakling of a grandson I've got.' I can hardly blame you though, if I had been stronger, Voldemort would be dead." 

"But I'm not thinking that at all, my brave little angel-grandson," Harry heard his grandmother's voice again. 

End Part Fourteen 


	15. Ghost of a Violent Father

**Remembrance and Renewal** by **Nigel Tatsuya** and **Avatar Arkmage**   
Chapter Fourteen: **Ghost of a Violent Father**

Harry eagerly looked up at the sound of his grandmother's voice, hope filling his heart until it threatened to overflow. Hope metamorphosed into dismay at Mervidith Snape's unchanged, haggard form; her stillness reminiscent of a living death. Her night sky-black eyes watched something ahead of her, both distant and directly before her simultaneously. She was oblivious to the very presence of her grandson. 

"Grandmother..." The memories of all that he had seen on his journey outside of time, filled him anew, and played like a discordant symphony. Once more, he saw this woman being abused at the hands of her own husband. For many years. Beatings alone, or alongside her son. 

Harry tried to shut those memories out, but his overzealous efforts only intensified them. He saw those dark eyes again, and remembered when they were sparkling with happiness. His grandmother's every expression held nothing but the purest love just for him. How Harry longed to see her happy again, but more so, he longed to have a living grandmother of his very own. 

Then came visions of Mervidith willingly bearing the cruciatus curse, in her misguided, though brave endeavour to spare her son a life of servitude to Voldemort. Harry clenched his teeth, and tried to think of something else, anything else, but unabated, the memory of this meek, though loving woman bearing the brunt of Voldemort's wrath endured. 

Unable to tolerate any more, Harry began to cry in silence, gently rocking his grandmother to and fro in his arms. "Oh grandmother, why did you put yourself in danger all those years ago? Did you think Voldemort would have let father go if he simply refused to take the mark? Even if the Cruciatus had killed you, and father still hadn't agreed to take the mark, Voldemort would have found another way to enslave him! Why did you have to be so...so good? You suffered your whole life! What was it all for?" Into his sadness, anger intruded forcefully. "You sacrificed so much for others... But what of yourself?" 

"And... and what about me?" Harry asked as tears began to dampen Mervidith's long white hair. "I need you, grandmum. Father and I both do. You're here, but yet... you're also gone." 

Even though the woman did not move, her arms some how remained around Harry, despite his angry quivering. "Maybe it's better that you're unaware of me, after all . Otherwise, you'd be angry at all that's happened since, and disappointed that I failed to kill Voldemort. So many chances... so many chances I've had to put an end to him once and for all, and I failed every time! I never saw the importance of training myself up so that I could stand against him. Granted, I did train, my friends and I even formed the Dumbledore's Army so we could train ourselves and others, but we didn't train as hard as we should have. I let my petty anger get the better of me more than once. I am the reason my Godfather, Sirius Black is dead, and I nearly caused the death of my two best friends as well. Even father..." Harry's voice became incoherent as his own whimpering took control of his throat. At the same time, he was amazed at what it was possible to say to one who was physically present, but could not understand the words. He needed someone to talk to, and who better than a member of one's own family. These were fears and sources of shame he could not confide to his friends, or even to his father, at least not yet. To a loving grandmother, all seemed possible. "I wouldn't blame you if you never wanted to see me again. When I die, if you tell my spirit to stay away..." 

"Why on Earth would I ask such a thing of you, dear little angel?" came a familiar, yet disembodied voice from just above him. 

Harry did not want to look up. He did not want his last vestige of comfort dashed again. He clung even more stubbornly to Mervidith Snape's slight form, careful not to apply so much pressure as to break any bones, or to restrict her breathing. 

"Harry?" His grandmother's voice resounded. 

Harry could not resist, and looked fully at his grandmother's motionless face. He must have been imagining things. He had imagined his grandmother's voice. Was it born of his intense anger, or perhaps of his need for absolution? "Wonderful! I'm imagining things now!" Harry berated himself. "I must be insane, there can be no other explanation. Sometimes when a person wishes for something with enough convic..." 

Harry froze when he sensed, rather than felt, a kiss gently placed on his forehead. He looked directly above his grandmother, and saw the ghostly image of Mervidith Snape leaning over him! Strangely, she looked as she did the very day Harry had watched her go insane under the cruciatus curse. Her waist-length hair was the colour of hot coals once more, with intermittent streaks of white throughout. Her body was no longer skeletal, and her eyes were twinkling, regarding Harry with only love in her obsidian eyes; just as she had in the time not so long before Harry was born. 

"For years, I feared that something had happened to hinder your birth, or that you had been killed, or perhaps that you hadn't even been conceived. " His grandmother's voice reverberated in Harry's mind. "Why would I ever want to send you away? Grandchildren aren't called 'GRAND-children' without reason. You're my grandchild, and though I've only met you just a short while ago, I find you to be far too GRAND a child for me to wish away." 

Harry expected to wake up at any moment. This had to be a dream. It was too surreal. Dreams often failed to be logical, and reflected one's desires. This one fit the criteria perfectly. He was holding his grandmother in his arms, and yet she also was standing over him. 

"You're not dreaming." Mervidith said, as though she were able to read Harry's thoughts. "And you certainly aren't insane." 

"Then," Harry stopped to wipe his eyes and nose on his sleeve, "how...I mean, I'm holding you, yet you're a ghost. But you're alive...how can you be a ghost, but have a living body?" 

Mervidith appeared perplexed. "I-I don't know?" She knelt beside Harry, and put a ghostly arm over his shoulder; both grandmother and grandchild relieved at her having the capability to do this. "Maybe I'm trapped somewhere between death and life? I really don't know." 

"Maybe your body didn't die, but you somehow did?" Harry speculated. 

"Or perhaps all that fighting, and your being so harsh on yourself just now... scolding yourself like that, is enough to wake the dead?" Mervidith whispered, attempting to dry Harry's tears with her ghostly sleeves. "Please don't blame yourself so, whatever it is you think you've done, it can't have been worse than my foibles." 

Harry bowed his head, deciding that he should not do or say anything to upset his grandmother, lest she disappear, and never appear to him again. 

"Curious, I have not been able to communicate with anyone for many years. You're the first. How is it that you are able to hear me?" 

"And I can also see you too, Grandmother. Maybe it's some sort of bond family members have for each other? When I first saw you, I knew you were Snape's...I mean Professor Snape's mother, but I was drawn to you, as well as to him, yet I didn't understand why. Only later did I find out that you both were related to me." 

"Only my grandson could reach across time like that." 

"You don't look like a ghost really, not like the ones at Hogwarts at least. You look like you're flesh, like you're here, and alive. I can even see the colour of your hair and your skin, but you're a bit transparent. I can see the rafters behind you." 

Mervidith turned, and looked at the rafters. She rose into the air, reaching for them, but her ascent was halted when she was only a metre or so above her body. "I can't be dead. I can't meander far from my body." 

Harry then noticed that the spirit appeared to be fettered by means of long silvery strands, which seemed to emanate from her physical body and form shackles upon her spectral wrists and ankles. 

"It appears that I'm not a full-fledged disembodied spirit yet. Perhaps as long as blood circulates through my veins, I won't be able to die..." 

"Good job, I don't want you to die!" 

"How could I, besides? I would miss far too many years with my precious grandson. Oh, you can't know how happy I am, now that I know you've made it safely into this world. How I wish my body were my own again, and not a prison, so that we could spend time together." 

Harry smiled, despite the fact that tears flowed profusely from his eyes. "In my first year at Hogwarts, I found the Mirror of Erised, and saw my deepest desire reflected in it. I saw a big, loving family surrounding me. Even though your body is immobile, and you're talking to me as a spirit, I would not trade the fact that I still have you for anything, Grandmother." 

"It was hard with all those people visiting me over the years, missing me, and it was distressing to not being able to communicate with any of them. I longed to ask after you." Mervidith squeezed Harry's shoulders reassuringly. "The cruciatus curse left my nervous system so damaged that I can not move on my own accord. For years I have had to watch Sevvie-- uh your father grieve after me, as well as for you. I listened to him chastise himself each time he visited me, telling me how sorry he was I ended up existing rather than living, and how he should have been the one in this state. How could he blame himself so? Even though he disobeyed his father repeatedly throughout his formative years, and studied potions, that cannot be the reason he was forced to join the Death Eaters." Mervidith sighed. "But I could tell him nothing. Most painful of all, Severus would often tell me how he had failed your mother, and his little green-eyed angel..." 

"He didn't fail! I'll tell him what you just told me! He has no control how sadistic Voldemort likes to be! Why does he blame himself so much?" Harry sniffled, feeling sorry he had ever harboured ill feelings toward the respectable man that was his father. 

Mervidith looked as though she were about to answer, but kept silent. Harry realised that he had answered his own questions. Evidently self-blame was something both he and his father excelled at. 

"He didn't know about me at the time either! Mum never told him she was pregnant." 

"Lily...your mother, she must have done what she felt was best to keep those she loved safe. A mother would gladly present her child with the stars if her child asked for them, and if it were within her power to harness them from the sky." Mervidith said, her ghostly hand rubbing soothing circles on Harry's back. "Oh, how I tried to tell Sevvie about your existence. He did not believe me at first, being the stubborn man he is." 

"Yes, he is stubborn, I'm so glad he's accepted me though," Harry choked, his voice threatening to fail at any moment, " at least in his own way. At one time, I thought I hated the man. He's so mean to all of his students, especially those of us from Gryffindor House. But when I saw glimpses of his life, and what made him the way he is now, I couldn't help but feel so connected to him. I never thought I could feel this kind of love before." 

"It is the love known only between parents and children." Mervidith said knowingly. "And that love is not so far removed from the love only a grandparent and grandchild can hold for each other." Harry's eyes filled with tears. "When you first began to appear in my dreams, I could not wait to meet you. And that day when you sat across me in the kitchen back in Alsace, and you handed the peach back to me after it rolled on the floor...I wished you weren't only a preborn spirit then, I wanted you to join us at the table for dinner. I longed to set another place just for you." 

Harry remembered always envying Ron over his having such a large family with loving siblings and parents. Did he dare dream of this? For a family of his very own? 

"Following my being tortured into insanity at the hands of Voldemort, I felt your presence in my hospital room." Mervidith said. "Sevvie had been badly hurt as well, and that was the first time he was able to visit me since we were brought into the hospital. I sensed that you were there beside him." 

"Yes, yes I was..." Harry shivered when he thought of the horrible things he had witnessed; his grandmother shrieking in the throes of the cruciatus curse, and his father's agonized screams when Voldemort and his henchmen... when they... What they had done was so horrendous that it was agony for Harry to even think of what he had witnessed. It was a blessing that he had averted his eyes, and hadn't seen the actual carnage, but he could not shield himself against the horrible sounds of his father's assault. Rage imploded within him, and threatened to overtake any available reasoning. "I'll deal with Voldemort properly this time!" Harry mouthed. 

"Oh," Mervidith noted the fierce expression on Harry's face. "Such anger...I knew the same anger for years, my precious angel grandchild. But right at this moment, I find that I cannot feel the strife and wrath that I used to feel at least once every day before..." 

Harry looked at his grandmother in awe. 

"Right now, my happiness at seeing you again, after far too many years. That you've lived after all, I find that my love for you eclipses all of my anger." Mervidith said, her spiritual body wrapping itself around Harry. 

Grandmother and grandchild held one another for a long, staggered moment. When Mervidith shifted her position at last, her spectral foot came in contact with the sealed package containing Severus's arm. "Oh my!" the older woman gasped. "You had better take this back to Severus." 

"But what about you, Grandmum?" Harry said, not willing to break contact with Mervidith's motionless body. 

"Hmm..." Mervidith thought. "If you leave me here, I'll be dead in a few days, as I can't care for myself. I don't think I could set foot on the grounds of Hogwarts again, and it might be hard for you to carry me all the way back to St. Mungos. But since I didn't die properly, perhaps if you left me..." 

"No! I won't leave you here to die! Don't ever leave me again, grandmum!" Harry commanded, clinging to the woman intensely. What had come over him? 

"As long as you need me, my precious grandson, I will always be with you. I just thought since my flesh is useless, I might be more help to you as a spirit free of a body." Mervidith said reassuringly. 

"And what your spirit leaves this world altogether?" Harry speculated. "No, I don't want to leave you here to die, not as long as there is a chance that something could still be done. Technologies have advanced greatly in the last seventeen years, maybe there's something out there that could make you better?" 

"If you and Severus would come and visit me every now and again, that would be more than enough reason for me to stay. Well then, take my body back to St. Mungos, and for heaven's sake, take that arm back to Sevvie. He has quite the temper, and he's liable to have a fit if he realises it has gone missing." 

"Is he going to be ruddy mad at me!" Harry moaned, watching the arm as it twitched within the package. 

"He will understand if you explain to him the way you've just explained to me." Mervidith stroked Harry's cheek. "At least, I hope he does." 

"No he won't..." 

"Well, not at first, but he'll understand when he calms down I'm sure." Mervidith knelt before Harry. "And please, dear little grandson, come and visit me on weekends if you can get away from school. We've been apart for too many years." 

Looking first at the woman's motionless body, and then at the ethereal being, Harry gathered up both and headed back to St. Mungos. All the way there, he quietly told her of things that had transpired during her many years imprisoned in her nerve-damaged body.

* * *

"It burns, father! It burns!" Severus wailed as he backed away from the spilled cauldron. 

"Well what did you expect? It was a cauldron on the boil! Serves you right, wretched nit!" Lucien Snape shouted, trying to inspect the damage on his young son's arm. "My potions lab is no place for a little whelp to be scampering about." 

Severus looked as though he were biting back a score of protests, but the fierce expression on his father's face inhibited his abilities to speak coherently. Always fascinated by potions, Severus had crept into the laboratory, and had upset a boiling cauldron whilst attempting to peer into it. 

"Get over here at once, and show me your arm!" Lucien yelled, his ice coloured eyes glittering. 

Little Severus clutched his arm tightly to himself, and backed away from the fair haired man. When the man rapidly walked forward, Severus began whimpering uncontrollably and continued to back away until he came in contact with the wall behind him. 

Exasperated, Lucien lunged forward, grabbed Severus by the hair, and pulled him away from the wall. After backhanding his already injured son twice, and ordering him to shut up each time the boy cried out, Lucien seized the boy's tiny arm and rolled up his sleeve. "Good job it wasn't a neurotoxin that spilt on you! You'd have more than just burns on your body, do you know what an exogenous nerve toxin could do?" 

"Uh huh..." Although young Severus was in a considerable amount of pain from the potion burns, he did not want to undergo treatment at the hands of his father, and tried to pull his arm away as more tears streamed down his cheeks. 

"Stop crying, baby boy!" 

"I can't!" Severus sobbed. "It hurts a lot!" 

"You will stop your detestable snivelling this instant!" Lucien warned, gesturing toward his belt. "Or I shall give you even more reason to carry on doing so." 

The little boy made an ineffectual attempt to wipe his tears on his sleeves, and stifle his sobs. The salinity of his tears only amplified the burning sensation, which caused the six year old to cry even more. 

Shrugging, Lucien hauled Severus by the collar to a nearby basin and began washing the potion off with cool water. He pulled off Severus's robes and threw them into a tub of neutralizer and proceeded to wipe off the remainder of the potion where it had soaked through the boy's clothes with a warm washcloth. 

Although the burning was still intense, Severus stopped crying and noted a tremendous amount of comfort from his father's touch. "Sevvie, I am tempted to leave you as you are, as the pain might make you rethink your actions the next time you're tempted to act so foolishly. However, I'm going to apply a burn salve," the fair-haired man said as he stirred a paste in a small jar. "it will hurt at first, but you should notice the skin beginning to mend within a few minutes." 

All at once, Lucien aged many years, and when Severus looked down at himself, he realized that he had also aged, and had become an adult. Strangely, the potion burns remained, and the familiar skull and snake of the Dark Mark appeared. Lucien still held onto Severus's hand, and was now applying burn paste to the potion injuries, as well as the newly made brand. 

"You should have listened to your mother and refused the mark, foolish boy!" Lucien chided, only the top of his white-blond haired head visible as he looked down while carefully applying the paste. 

Severus now became aware of the sound of sobbing behind him. When he turned, he saw a very tearful Harry with a darkening bruise over his jawbone. Harry appeared to be terrified, and gestured as if to brace for another painful blow... as though he were expecting to be struck again. There was also a look of unspeakable hurt on the boy's face; betrayal at being harmed by the very person he wanted nothing more than affection and guidance from. 

"You did not like it at all when I hammered on you and your mum." Lucien frowned at the sight of Harry's bruise. "Why did you have to go and hammer your own son? Has Voldemort and his accursed mark poisoned your mind already, Sev?" 

Severus made to go to Harry, but Harry adopted a defensive posture in terror. 

"You're no better a father than I was. Very few Death Eaters can be acceptable fathers, I believe. It's the Dark Mark; it poisons us, destroys everything we were before it was burned into our arms," Lucien lamented, the remorse in his eyes unmistakably sincere. "If it were possible for me to have another go, I'd have spared you and your mother all the grief and danger I brought to your lives." Lucien raised his sleeve, revealing the Dark Mark on his ghostly left arm. Lucien Snape lowered his head, drew his wand and aimed it at his own heart. 

"FATHER!" Severus cried, realising too late that Lucien was about to cast the killing curse on himself. "There is no need for you to..." 

But Lucien was not granted the opportunity to act; he pitched to the ground, and faded back into oblivion. 

Severus backed away, remembering that Lucien had not died by his own hand, but had expired under torture, probably administered at the orders of the Dark Lord. 

The potions master knelt beside his son, who promptly screamed when Severus placed hand on his shoulder. It was puzzling, for it was not a cry of fear, but of pain. Severus tenderly reached for Harry's wrist, but the boy cried out again, and curled into a protective ball on the floor. Exasperated now, Severus enfolded Harry in his arms, and was perplexed at the dampness he felt through Harry's tattered robes. 

"Harry...what?" Severus cried out in terror at the feeling of something wet and leathery in his hand. His horror quintupled when he looked repeatedly from the welts on Harry's back, to his own bloodied belt in his hand. 

"Please, father!" Harry cried, backing away until his flayed back came in contact with stone wall behind him. "No more, I'm sorry, please don't hit me again." 

Severus trembled so fiercely that he could no longer remain upright. He shifted his weight and fell beside his son, careful not to traumatize the youth any further. "Why are you breathing that way?" Severus asked, fearing the answer. 

"I can't draw a full breath." Harry's words were barely audible. 

"Who did this to you?" Severus asked, raising Harry's shirt and seeing immediately that the boy's ribs had been broken. One of Harry's ribs had pierced his pale skin. 

"You did. And I'm sorry for going into your labs again, I'll stay out next time. I won't ever go into your labs again. I know you wanted me to practice my duelling, and my hex-casting, but I don't think I'll be able to do that now. At the very least, I won't be a milksop any longer," said Harry, even as he began to cry even harder. 

If Severus had beat Harry, he could not remember it. Was this madness truly what came of prolonged exposure to the Dark Mark? Had his own father, Lucien Snape, been in a similar mental state? 

"Harry,I..!" 

But Harry was not responsive. His green eyes developed a strange cast, which gave the impression of a faint light slowing being extinguished. Severus leaned close, until he could feel Harry's weakening breaths, which were like the withering flower petals against his cheek. 

"No!" Severus shouted when Harry's green eyes closed. Severus frantically felt for a breath, a pulse, or any sign that Harry was still alive. "No...NO!"

* * *

"Good Heavens!" Madam Pomfrey's voice appeared from somewhere behind Harry's motionless form. "Are you in pain again Severus?" 

Disoriented, Severus tried to focus on his surroundings. It had all been a dream. For that he was immensely relieved. Wanting to cover up any sign of vulnerability however, Snape quickly dashed the tears from his eyes and retorted: "No, I was merely exercising my vocal chords so they do not atrophy from disuse." 

Poppy rolled her eyes at the barb, and moved over to assess her patient. Although Snape's snarky ways, and cutting remarks could try the school nurse's patience even on her best days, she nonetheless felt some measure of relief that Snape could make snide utterances at all. Mediwitch Ayame Chang joined Madam Pomfrey at Snape's side. 

"Where's my ruddy arm!" Severus growled in a feeble attempt to change the subject. He has worked out what had happened in his mind, and found it rather strange that it felt as though he still had his whole left arm, even though it was completely gone from the elbow down. 

"You do not remember?" Dr Chang asked, motioning to the heavily bandaged stump. 

"No!" Severus yelled at the dark haired woman as she redressed one of his wounds, sending sharp pains through his side. The prospect that he could raise Harry the way his own father had violently reared him, was too real, and too fresh in his mind. 

Madam Pomfrey calmly explained about how the Dark Mark had probably affected him, since it was a magical brand in nature. Since he still had high levels of Interventio Interferus potion in his system, the damage could be considerable. The fact that he had used his own magics exacerbated matters. "You'll need to exercise better judgement next time, Severus!" When they completed their work, Dr Chang dosed Severus heavily with course of muggle sedatives.

* * *

"Are you sure these measures are necessary? Sedating him and all? Wouldn't analgesics be sufficient?" Dr. Chang asked as she watched Snape's dark eyes close. 

"If he isn't sedated, he'll attempt to return to his duties far before he is in any condition to perform them. " Madam Pomfrey said as she pulled the covers up to Severus's chin. "He really needs a lot of rest. Desperate, though these measures may seem, they are necessary to help him allow himself to heal." 

"I think we ought to try a different course of Muggle medications though." Dr. Chang stated. 

"Why?" 

"One of the side-effects is mood changes." Dr. Chang replied as they left Snape's side to attend the other patients. "He was crying just now. From what my daughter tells me, Professor Snape does not seem the sort."

* * *

Inwardly, Snape brooded. Had his actions toward Harry earlier that evening brought about those memories of his father? Furthermore, was Severus so much like his father that he would end up beating Harry with little or no provocation? 

Severus had struck Harry earlier in the evening. He had hit Harry hard enough to cause bruising. 

No child deserves that kind of abuse. All Harry had done was try to wake him from a nightmare, and what did he do? He punched the poor boy with enough force to send him reeling off of the opposite end of the bed. He, Severus Snape, was not so different from Lucien Snape. 

As much as he longed for his little angel, and as much as the little green eyed angel thought he needed Severus, Severus grimly concluded that he could not risk further harm to the boy. If they were to continue with their father/son relationship, he would surely hurt the boy far more than he would help him. 

Harry had survived many years without a parent, and could no doubt survive without one once more. 

Severus determined that he would hereafter only provide for Harry's physical needs, i.e. a home, food, shelter, money, and clothing. But he would not risk hurting Harry again by being a substandard father. Better that Harry be spared of an abusive father altogether, than to suffer as Severus had. 

Let the boy be arrogant. Let his head swell to thrice its normal size from all the praise certain to be bestowed upon him. At least without Severus Snape, Harry Potter would have the courage to grow, to love and to seek happiness in the world. Far better he live that way than to be condemned to the same lonely and despised fate that was Severus Snape's hellish life. 

"Yes, father. Harry deserves better." Severus sighed in assent, recalling Lucien Snape's face in his mind's eye. 

"You've done well enough without me, Harry. Farewell." 

But if this course of action were so reasonable and prudent, why did Severus feel so morose about it? He wanted the best for his only child, just as most parents do. This was all for the best, he was sure of it; but if so, why on Earth did he not feel more confident in his decision? And why was he still crying?

* * *

Harry vowed that he would ask his father to bring them to St. Mungos at least once a week, even though he . Strangely, he never felt more lonely than he did at this moment. Since Mervidith was not truly dead, her spirit was tethered to her motionless body, and she could stray no more than a metre or so from it. Harry wished that he could have his grandmother nearby. Other youth They had nearly seventeen years of dialogue to catch up on. 

The parting had been especially difficult, and it required an exorbitant amount of encouragement on Mervidith's part to convince Harry to make the trip back to Hogwarts. Mervidith followed him as far as the door to her room once the staff placed her body back in there. 

"I love you, my beloved green-eyed angel." Mervidith said as Harry reluctantly headed toward the door. 

"I love you too, grandmother." Harry said in return. Under his breath, Harry vowed: "I'll find a way to make you well again, grandmum. I promise you. I swear I will do everything in my power to have you fully with us again. It's not fair that Voldemort took my family away from me, and deprived me of a potentially powerful matriarch! I will make him pay!"

* * *

Just as Harry made his way past the accident/emergency ward on his way back outside, some one jumped at him with such force that he was nearly knocked over. 

It was Draco Malfoy. 

"Uncle Severus! Oh, I'm so relieved, Godfather!" Draco shouted in a voice Harry would never have thought the brash, and spoiled boy was capable of. There was not even a hint of the condescending drawl Harry was accustomed to hearing in the pale youth's voice. To serve to further astonish him, the blond boy wrapped his arms around Harry. "Professor Snape!" 

The force of Draco's embrace pushed Harry backwards, and past a large mirror along the wall. Except for his bright green eyes, he still looked exactly like Severus Snape. Apparently the Polyjuice formulation IV worked better than Harry had anticipated. 

"Help me, Professor!" Draco implored. 

Harry, so thoroughly gobsmacked at being held in the fierce embrace of his arch-enemy, could only gawk in stunned silence, Harry did have the forethought to tentatively put his arms around Draco,in a manner one's godfather might. 

"Uncle Severus, you've got to help me!" 

It was Harry's first instinct to push Draco away and to take his chances running past the security checkpoint. In other cicumstances, Harry might have hexed the white-haired boy if he even attempted to get within a metre of him. But Draco looked as though he had been beaten rather severely, and as much as Harry disliked Draco, he could not help but feel pity for him. 

After all, Harry knew only too well how it felt to be injured in this manner, with express cruelty and malice. 

Even though Draco had been partially healed, Harry could make out all the earmarks of a harsh pummelling, and could still distinguish circular bruising on the boy's chest and face, which could only have been from an onslaught of fists. Along the pale boy's neck, Harry could see fading scratches and bruises. 

Pushing Draco away at this point would only serve to injure the boy further, as Draco could hardly stand on his own, and Harry could not find it within himself to risk further injury. Even to a one time rival and enemy. Being that Harry had already released a tremendous amount of frustration and energy on Voldemort earlier that evening, he no longer had the stamina to lash out at Draco, who was a mere nuisance no more cumbersome than a flake of dandruff . 

But Draco was actually hugging him! Eww! Was this something that Draco normally did when he felt no urgency to uphold his bad-boy image in front of other people? Especially Gryffindors? Was Draco really that close to his Godfather? Or was he merely holding him because he was afraid? But what would Draco have to fear? And how did he come to be in the hospital? And who had beat him? 

"P-professor Snape!" Draco stammered, looking at the door behind them with the same fear hunted prey would display as whilst watching for an encroaching predatory animal. "You have to help me." 

Remembering that his eyes would surely give his identity away, Harry squinted as much as possible and hoped that Draco would interpret the action as normal 'Professor Snape' behaviour. "Wha- wha- what?" Harry said before he could better think of his intonation or if his father would indeed say something like that. 

"Sir?" Draco asked in surprise, his cumulonimbus-grey eyes wide with disbelief. 

Harry could have kicked himself, not even he had ever heard Snape say anything like "Wha- wha- what?" The man seemed far too sure of himself for that. "Er..uh..." Harry attempted, kicking himself inwardly once again while searching his mind for the most Snape-like response he could conjure. Inspiration came at last, and he lowered his voice, remembering to sneer the best he could. "As I am not Professor Trelawny, surely you do not expect me to understand the first thing you are talking-- alluding to, Mr. Malfoy?" 

Draco looked slightly shocked, no... he seemed hurt? Did Professor Snape not address Draco so formally or so coldly when they were not in class? Harry decided then to behave toward Draco, in a manner he would have liked his own godfather Sirius Black to behave toward him... albeit in the most Snapesque way possible. "Draco," Harry started with conservatively "Explain... What happened? And what is it you would have me do for you?" 

"Some Death Eater lackeys roughed me up," Draco hesitantly stated. 

"Why?" 

"I don't know! I was hoping you could tell me!" Draco said in a cadence that indicated he did not wish to elaborate further about the beating. "Anyway, because St. Mungos is so full, they said they are going to transfer me to a muggle hospital in the morning." 

Not knowing what to say, Harry remained silent and hoped that his confusion did not show up on his face. 

"I don't want to go to a muggle hospital!" Draco continued. "Help me hide! Take me with you, I don't want to go to a muggle hospital." 

"Why not? They're still going to-- I mean, they will provide you with the best care they are capable of." Harry replied, really not understanding why Draco would be so scared of a muggle hospital. "And I'll not endanger your life by helping you to escape the medical care you need. The muggle doctors and nurses will do their best to take care of you." 

"That's just it, Uncle Sev." Harry had to fight not to grin at hearing Draco's affectionate name for him, or rather his father, "I heard that they cut you up, and sew up those cuts with fishgut stitches, and they also use needles to shoot potions in your arm." 

"Sometimes they inject the medicines in your arse as well..." Harry thought aloud, recalling that intramuscular shots were a method muggle physicians often employed. 

"WHAT!" Draco nearly screamed, his already ashen cheeks making an attempt at appearing cadaverous next. 

"Uh..uh... oh! you thought I said sometimes they inject the medicines in your arse,' didn't you?" Harry said, cursing his own carelessness once more. "What I really meant to say was, I mean, what I really DID say was 'sometimes their medicine is a farce.'" 

"Oh, that's so true!" Draco nodded, sounding more apprehensive than ever as he was sure that his godfather had not said the latter. "Now you see why I don't want to go there!" 

"Draco," Harry began, trying to sound Snape-like and encouraging at the same time. Not an easy task. "I am familiar with muggle hospitals, and while the way they do things isn't always... I mean they can be questionable in their methods by wizarding standards, but they do take good care of you there. And they use their technologies to make you as comfortable as possible. You will heal just the same there as ..." 

"I don't want those filthy mudbloods ... touching me!" Draco said, the expression on his face reminiscent of some one sucking on a half- rotted lemon with the skin still on. 

"Now, Draco, mind your tongue! I'll not have your foul...I mean, I'll not hear...No profanity in my presence!" Harry said, knowing that he had to return to Hogwarts soon. "There is nothing more that can be done. With our resources so limited in the magical world, we will need help from the muggles from time to time." 

"But..." 

"This is one of those times. The muggles may not have magical powers, but they are human like we are, and will not deliberately try to hurt you." Harry said comfortingly, while keeping the silky, Snape-like tone firmly in place in his voice. "You will not need to remain with the muggles any longer than necessary, but you are still in need of medical attention and you will receive it." 

Draco appeared to find the mosaic patterns on the floor fascinating, which was a great relief to Harry as he knew the polyjuice potion was wearing off more, and he wasn't sure if he still looked significantly like Professor Snape. "Draco... be brave. I know you've been through difficult things before..." Harry was surprised at how easy it was for him to speak words of comfort to his one time enemy. Even more odd, he found that he felt genuine concern for Draco, but he could not understand exactly why. "...but I know you're tough- - resilient. And you'll get through this. I fully believe you will." 

Draco looked up as Harry put his hands soothingly on his shoulders. Harry squinted quickly, to avoid Draco seeing his eye colour. With any luck, Draco would perceive that to be nothing more than a typical Snape scowl. "Thanks, Uncle Sevs. I- I'll go." 

"That's my boy, Draco. What I mean to say is, very good. I am most impressed by your attitude. " Harry said, nearly choking on his own words. "I'll send you some crunchy macadamia and chocolate candy once you arrive at the muggle hospital." 

"Is that some kind of magical candy?" Draco asked, not familiar with the confection. 

"The candy has magical properties." Harry replied, knowing that even muggle chocolate, given as a gift, could lift the mood, however slightly, of even the most glum individuals. "It will make your stay at the muggle hospital more bearable." 

Before Harry could back away, Draco wrapped his arms around his waist once more. For the slightest fraction of a moment, Harry wanted to pull away, but then he remembered that he was not supposed to be Harry at all, but Severus Snape, this boy's godfather. Still feeling immensely uncomfortable, Harry tentatively returned the embrace, feeling some relief that the real Severus was probably just as adept at giving Draco hugs as he was... which was not very adept at all. 

"Ahh!" Draco exclaimed, pulling back from Harry abruptly. 

Sure that Draco had figured matters out, Harry slumped his shoulders. "Well..." 

"Godfather!" Draco promulgated, motioning to a large red smudge on his own hospital gowns. "Uncle Sevs, you're bleeding!" 

The level of endogenous morphines in Harry's blood were so high that he had hardly felt pain from the injuries Voldemort and Wormtail had inflicted on him. He wasn't aware of it so acutely until this moment. Recovering from the shock enough to speak, he lied: "Well... that is precisely why I was in the hospital in the first place... I uh...needed treatment. And so do you...let's go back to the critical care ward..." 

"There you are!" a very worried mediwizard shouted as he burst into the room with two security wizards in tow. "We've been searching everywhere for you, Draco!" 

Draco put on the worst sneer he could muster. "Oh, if it isn't the mediwizard simpleton..." 

"Now Draco, be nice...you will regard the mediwizard with the proper respect!" Harry chided, surprised at how easily he could slip into Snape's persona. 

Draco scowled at Harry and the mediwizard before letting the security officers levitate him back in the direction of the critical care unit. 

"Ahh! Professor Snape." the mediwizard said pleasantly. "Thank you for keeping Draco here, we were so worried he would have tried to escape from St. Mungos." 

Remembering Professor Snape's dislike of being praised for anything he did, Harry did his best to brush it off like dust. "I did nothing more than any teacher would do for his student." 

"You're not so changed, Professor Snape. Still can not accept anyone's gratitude or praises." The mediwizard said, smiling as he turned to leave. "That is exactly what you have said so many times back when I was your student in the Slytherin house..." The young mediwizard motioned to his uniform. "But know this, I would not have lived to achieve all that I have today without your guidance. Whether you choose to see it or not, many people owe their prosperity, and sometimes their very lives to you. For that, I am grateful to you as well." 

Harry stared at the door long after it closed behind the young mediwizard, his pride for his father growing inexorably within him. Severus Snape had done so much good, for so many people. And yet he devalued his own actions repeatedly. 

All at once, Harry regretted not even looking at the laniard on the mediwizard's uniform. How Harry wanted to tell his father about what the young mediwizard had said. Tell him how his actions, however coarse had acerbic, had influenced people for the better. But Harry could not even name the mediwizard. 

With a sigh Harry turned to leave St. Mungos, observing the unexpected irony of the whole situation. The Malfoys and Snapes seemed so different from one another, yet the two families were so interconnected. Lucien (Malfoy) Snape, who was the disowned older brother of Lucius Malfoy, had raised Severus Snape. Now Severus Snape was the godfather of Draco Malfoy, and judging from Draco's reaction to him, they were quite close. And if and when it was known to the Malfoys that Severus Snape was Harry's father... would that make them god brothers! 

Harry was still reeling from his own musings as he reached the exit. 

"Give my regards to your mother, Professor Snape. I hope she recovers someday." One of the witches at the security desk said she bid Harry farewell. 

"My GRAND MOTHER will recover. I swear it." Harry whispered as he walked out into the night and concentrated on apparating back to Hogwarts.

* * *

The Dark Lord's newly hired Interim potions master, Justin Kase, moved drone-like through the dimly lit labs in Resolute Manor. His proficiency level at potions was not even a fraction near Severus Snape's. Indeed none of the other candidates the Death Eaters had kidnapped for the position of interim potions master were. 

Voldemort had beaten, and tortured three potions masters, and killed two outright when they could not concoct some of the more complex potions Severus Snape had developed, and could brew with relative ease. Even more annoying, none of the candidates had the speed or the dexterity that Severus had. 

It would be a long wait for Severus's return to his position among the Death Eaters. 

Justin Kase had been chosen by pure default, as more interim potions candidates were difficult to come by, thanks to the heightened security measures taken throughout the wizarding world in the days following the large scale Death Eater attack. To be sure, Kase was not the best candidate for the job, and Voldemort actually regretted killing the two that he did, for surely more of them in the labs would have hurried matters along at the very least. Perhaps three potions masters could have accomplished what Lucien Snape, then later Severus Snape alone would normally do. Indeed, perhaps all of the candidates working together could have achieved the volume of potions work that was required at this time of war. 

The Dark Lord was far from infallible. 

"Are you done with the healing potionsss yet?" Voldemort hissed at the mousy brown- haired wizard. 

The man was so startled that he nearly burned his hand over the spelled flames. "Yes sir..." 

Voldemort watched in disgust as the man walked over with the drafts. He had been hit by so many modified imperious curses to assure his obedience that his face bore a revoltingly vacant expression even while concentrating hard on his work. 

The Dark Lord gratefully gulped down the vials of potions, feeling the acrid liquids crawl down his throat as though it were a sensate entity stalking its quarry of damaged tissues and broken bones. The relief was fast in coming, though almost not soon enough for him. It had been a long time since Voldemort was ever in that much pain, and every moment he had been waiting for the healing potions felt the equivalent of several historical epochs of muggle time. 

Only after the Dark Lord was sated did Wormtail dare to take his own doses of healing draughts. 

"Kassssssse," the Dark Lord said when the pain finally began to diminish. "Test the blood on my clothes. Most of it will be mine, but the blood of Severus Snape's imposter is also here, and I want to know his true identity." 

"I-it was not S-snivell- uh Severus S-snape, my Lord?" Peter Pettigrew stammered. 

"No, the impossster merely had the black sssnake's arm and usssed the Dark Mark upon it to apparate to usss." Voldemort replied irritably, before turning back to Kase. "Find out who the impossster is and kill him ... or better still ... casssstrate him! " 

Both Wormtail and Kase shuddered, and unconsciously crossed their legs 

"No, that will not do." Voldemort went on. "Preferably, carry out both orders, but reverssse the order in which they are done." 

End Part Fifteen 


	16. Two Snapes

﻿

**Remembrance and Renewal** by **Avatar Arkmage ** and **Nigel Tatsuya**  
Chapter Sixteen:**Two Snapes**

"Dark Lord," Justin Kase, the interim potions master hired in Professor Snape's absence, addressed in a flat voice. 

"Sspeak!" The Dark Lord commanded, fully intending to blast the younger man across the English Channel if he bore bad news, or if he were not bringing another dose of healing draught. 

"I have completed the tests on the blood left on your clothing, Your Eminence." Kase droned. 

"Well then, who issss our imposssster?" Voldemort tapped the armrest of his 'throne' impatiently. 

"The imposter bears a significant quantity of genetic factors similar to that of Professor Severus Snape." 

"Might that be from the polyjuiccce?" Voldemort asked. 

"No, I formulated the tests to exclude magical alterations or enhancements beforehand." Kase reported dully, the many hours of Cruciatus curses and conventional tortures, alternating with heavy analgesic potions evident. "This individual shares many factors with your regular potions master, Severus Snape." 

"He is a relative of Severus Snape?" 

"The high quantity of common factors in the imposter's blood, as well as similar magical markers indicates that he is CLOSELY related to Professor Severus Snape. " Kase repeated, not flinching even slightly from the look of growing rage on the Dark Lord's face. 

"A c-cousin?" Wormtail stuttered. 

"A sssssibling?" Voldermort hissed. If Severus had an unknown brother or a sister, Voldemort would seek him or her out, and put an end to the sibling's wretched life, employing the most brutal means at his disposal. 

"An offspring." Justin stated. "The imposter is Severus Snape's child, there is no doubt. The blood samples on the implements used in the Professor's torture, and that collected from your robes demonstrated the same results no less than three tiems.." 

"Snivelly's got a whelp?" Wormtail asked in disbelief. 

Voldemort cast a warning look on the cowering man, then turned back to Kase, thoroughly stunned. "An offspring? An offsping of the black snake! BUT THAT'S IMPOSSIBLE! Snape has no offspring! There has to be some error!" 

"I can assure you, there is no error." Justin Case said, his voice remarkably unchanged considering the circumstances. "Your attacker tonight was the male offspring of Severus Snape." 

"CRUCIO!" Voldemort screamed, firing his wand at the interim potions master.

* * *

Grateful for the cover of darkness, Harry ran to the gates of Hogwarts, and made his way inside. He was glad, but found it curious, that the wards admitted him so freely. Could they sense his arrival? It would be unnerving if they wards admitted just anyone. 

"Professor Dumbledore?" Harry gasped, his voice breathless both from running and at being startled at the sight of the aged Headmaster just on the other side of the doors at the main entrance. 

"Harry?" Albus gasped at Harry's altered appearance, though he could see right past it. 

"Yes sir, it's I..." 

"Go immediately to the hospital wing." Dumbledore ordered, both because of the severed arm he saw Harry clutching , as well as the fact that he could detect Harry's injuries as well. "You will explain yourself to me. Why you have broken so many laws in the magical world, as well as a great number of school rules." 

Harry staggered, rather than climbed, the flights of stairs leading towards the infirmary with Headmaster Albus Dumbledore following right behind. Though he had climbed these ever changing stairs many times before, Harry felt as though there were suddenly more of them to ascend, as though the wood had been still alive when it was constructed into the stiars, and had procreated with the other staircases in the immediate area over the years. 

Either that, or else the incline of the staircases had increased by many degrees within the span of the last few hours. Whatever the case, the ascent seemed somehow more grueling than in times past. Although Harry was relieved to be back at Hogwarts once more, the Headmaster's gaze, which he felt on the back of his head like cobalt flames, made even the inside of a sinking ship seem a preferable location to be by comparison. 

On one hand, he longed to tell the Headmaster about all that had transpired that evening. To cry his relief at finding his grandmother alive, if not well. To recount how frightening it had been to fight Voldemort, yet how exuberant it was at the same time to beat the Dark Lord senseless; to relish the thought that he had given the Dark Lord back just an iota of the suffering and intimidation he and other people in the magical world had endured over the years. 

On the other hand, Harry wanted to force feed the Headmaster his most undiluted draft of rage. If he had only seen what Voldemort was about to do to his grandmother... and surely Dumbledore knew perfectly well what the Dark Lord was capable of. He had told Dumbledore often enough about the visions he had, and how horrible they were. How could The Order of the Phoenix only meet and not act? What exactly were they doing? Merely biding their time? Watching like a group of imbeciles while Voldemort's forces only grew in number and attacked more innocent people every day? 

And what of the ministry? Surely they could do something to stopper the rise of Voldemort's forces and impose harsher penalties for those involved in the recent wave of crimes against the muggles, muggle-borns and half-bloods? They were the governing body of the wizarding world, after all. They could call all the shots. 

What's more, could they not have done something before Voldemort's forces had had the opportunity to grow so large in the first place? Can they not do something now to prevent it from growing any larger than it is? Perhaps a hefty propaganda campaign against the Dark Forces? Sure it may not be the most ethical way to do things, but saving lives is more ethical than letting an army of Death Eaters eliminate anyone they deemed unfit to live is it not? 

Harry was so angry, he was actually grateful that his best friends were not near him at the moment, for he would not have been good company at all. If Hermione were not safely in her muggle home right now, and were here giving Harry her customary dose of advice he never asked for, he would have told her in no uncertain terms to "shut up, Hermione!". If Ron had intervened on her behalf, Harry would have shoved him into the nearest wall, or spelled him into a conveniently placed suit of armor. If Ron had intervened on Harry's behalf, as he was more than likely to do, Harry would have still shoved him into the nearest wall. He just didn't want any advice or company at the moment. 

He wanted to act. 

There was just no getting past the dark images which threatened to overwhelm him. He rehearsed his responses to the questions Dumbledore was sure to ask in his mind, more for himself than to answer to the infuriating old man at this point. If Harry had not coerced Cho into helping him, stolen polyjuice and his father's arm and arrived in that warehouse when he did, Voldemort would have... 

Harry nearly exclaimed in anger when he thought of what Voldemort was about to do to his poor grandmother... Whether in defiance or in mercy Harry's mind shifted away from the horrific events at the deserted warehouse to the scenes he had bore witness too both in visions and in real life. Voldemort terrorizing innocent muggles, vague recollections of his parents dying, killing Cedric Diggory, his beloved godfather falling into that veil and most difficult for Harry to watch, the sight of Severus Snape being subjected to hours of torture at the hands of both of the Dark Lord and his Death Eaters. 

Even though Harry did not know Severus Snape was his father when he first watched Voldemort give the orders to his Death Eaters to punish his potions master for being late to the meeting, he still could not bear to watch such unprovoked acts of cruelty being performed on a relatively defenseless individual. It did not matter that he hated his potions professor at the time, he just could not stand to watch such heinous acts of violence. Now that Harry was seeing these memories through the eyes of a son, his anger flared within him like an inferno fanned by oscillatory gusts of wind. After all, Severus Snape had been late to the meeting because that was the night the man had saved him from the Dursley's home. 

Harry's anger turned to extreme guilt when he thought of the suffering he had indirectly caused. If he had not needed rescuing that fateful night, Severus would not have been late to the meeting and would not have been tortured for it. Furthermore, Voldemort would not have forced him to ingest the Interventio Interferous potion, some thing Harry was sure the Dark Lord did for his own sadistic pleasure than for anything other reason. 

For over a week Severus had had to endure healing completely under his own power. Unable to use his magic even though he would normally be powerful enough to heal himself. Unable to use his potions when he had the best at his disposal. 

Then Harry remembered with the greatest remorse on how he had asked Severus Snape to heal him. True, he did not know that The Dark Lord had forced Severus to drink the Interventio Interferous potion at the time, but that did little to quell the feelings of revulsion at the sight of his father laying in a tub of bloodied water after having done what Harry had asked him to. 

That image would surely be among his most indelible. Another being the sight of his father laying on the tiles of the University locker room floor nearly seventeen years back in time. The puddle of blood slowly spreading beneath his mauled body. His iridescent, long black hair, fouled by his own blood. The young Severus Snape's tears, flowing from his eyes and mixing with the blood from cuts on his temple and scalp, matting his just washed hair. And all Harry could do in his spirit form was to attempt to offer comfort, placing a ghostly hand on the only place on his father's chest which hadn't been bruised or torn open. He could barely gaze upon his father's hurt and humiliated face, but neither could he turn away. 

Just then, the staircase rose up from beneath his feet and struck Harry squarely in the head. 

"Harry!" Professor Dumbledore cried, dropping down at the fallen youth's side. After determining that Harry had merely fainted, Albus lifted Harry into his arms and walked the rest of the way to the Hospital wing.

* * *

Arthur Weasley, who was still under orders to remain in the infirmary for at least another two days, stirred at the sound of some one scuffling into the darkened room. "Oh my!" At the sight of the aged Headmaster carrying a person who looked like Professor Snape into the room, Arthur tried to get up and assist him. "Let me help you, Headmaster." 

"Thank you very much Arthur," The Headmaster replied, noticing how weak the red haired man still appeared. "But I can manage on my own. Get some more rest, Arthur." 

"Nonsense!" Mr. Weasley said, attempting to stand anyway. 

"Mr. Weasley!" Madam Pomfrey chided as she raised her head from Dr. Chang's shoulder. "You're hardly in any condition to be getting up on your own yet! Back to your bed at once!" 

"Yes, Madam Pomfrey..." Mr. Weasley said, sounding more like one of the students, rather than one of the employees of the Ministry of Magic and the father of seven children. 

"You're still suffering from the after effects of all those hexes." Madam Pomfrey said in a more gentle tone as she adjusted the covers around Arthur's torso. "Not only is your equilibrium compromised, but your temporal lobe is still suffering from random magical firings. You could start hallucinating." 

It was then that Arthur realized that he had just seen Albus Dumbledore carrying Severus Snape into the triage area. So how was it that Severus Snape was also laying in the bed across from his? Furthermore, the Severus Snape in the triage area had both arms, while the one asleep in the bed opposite his had only one. "Er... Righto!" Arthur said, assuming that he had already begun to hallucinate. Without another word of protest, he complied with Madam Pomfrey's orders and closed his eyes, and was asleep shortly thereafter. 

Madam Pomfrey's eyes grew twice their normal size when she entered the triage area and saw Severus Snape seated on the triage table, glaring at her with his... bright GREEN eyes? "SEVERUS!" 

"No," Harry said, finding Poppy's gawking expression so humourous that his anger was temporarily suspended. "It's me, Harry Potter." 

"Harry!" Madam Pomfrey gasped. 

"Mr. Potter has apparently ingested the polyjuice potion, and has assumed the appearance of Severus Snape." Professor Dumbledore said, disappointment markedly evident in his voice. 

"What on Earth for?" Poppy shouted, her shock turning quickly to outrage as she gathered her equipment and marched over to Harry. "And what have you done? You're bleeding! Oh! Let us get you sorted out then." 

Harry sighed, climbing off the exam table and disrobing so roughly that he tore some of the seams on his robes, and ripped off several buttons. Whether it was because this body bore no resemblance to his own, or because he was too angry to feel any degree of modesty, not even he was sure. Harry continued ripping away at his clothes until there was nothing left to remove. With that, he grumpily clambered back on the table and let Poppy set to work. 

Both Albus and Poppy gasped when they saw Harry's side. Not only did he have dried blood and dark bruising from his armpits to the area just above his pelvis, but a few of his ribs were obviously broken. Welts were protruding defiantly from his skin, many of which were bleeding, hence the considerable quantities of blood soaked through his discarded robes. 

Even Harry was surprised when he saw his own injuries. He hadn't felt much pain from any of them, and hardly thought about his injuries since the fight. He wondered if that was one of the flaws of the polyjuice IV, or if his adrenaline levels were just too high for his natural instincts of self preservation to kick in. Noticing where both Albus and Poppy were looking, Harry offered absently: "that was from when Wormtail and Voldemort blasted me..." 

"VOLDEMORT! WORMTAIL!" Dumbledore's eyes weren't twinkling at all but seemed to have taken the appearance of two roaring blue pulsars. 

"I suppose I should explain from the beginning huh?" Harry muttured, as Poppy threw a drape across his lap and went to gather more equipment.

* * *

"Hermione?" Dr. Hyperione Granger whispered, peering around the door into her daughter's immaculate bedroom. 

"Hullo, Mum." Hermione looked up from her copy of the Daily Prophet. She lay on her four poster bed with her pastel duvet wrapped around her, which was odd, as the night was not particularly cold. 

"What's wrong, dear?" The bushy haired woman queried. She sat on the edge of the bed, and smoothed the mane of unruly brown hair back from her daughter's face. "It's 4:12 in the morning, whatever are you doing awake at this hour? Are you feeling unwell?" 

"No, mother, I'm not sick. I can't sleep, actually. I'm so worried about all that's happening in the magical community now." She flung the daily prophet toward her mother. "Just look at what that witch said, here in paragraph two: 'They're attacking mudbloods.'" 

Mrs Granger looked mildly confused at the term 'mudblood.' "Mudbloods?" Mrs Granger marvelled briefly at the moving pictures, before realizing what the pictures depicted. She dropped the paper to floor in shock. "...!" 

"It's a filthy way some people in the magical community refer to some one like me, a person with magical abilities born to non-magical parents." Hermione explained. "The latest attack was in Hixvilleshire, muggleborns and their families are being attacked,that's only twenty-seven kilometres away!" 

Dr. Herman Granger, who had woken up when he realized that the warmth of his wife's body was absent from his bed, listened from the doorway, his brown eyes wide with fear.

* * *

By the time Harry had finished explaining the night's events in their entirety to Albus Dumbledore and inadvertently to Madam Pomfrey, he was both physically and emotionally drained. Harry's tone had become so flat that the harried nurse was sure that the headmaster had performed some sort of mind trick on the hapless youth, but Harry was merely too worn out to inject any degree of emotion into his tone. 

"Harry," the Headmaster sighed, lowering his white haired head, "I do not think you fully comprehend the ramifications of your actions..." 

Harry's temper flared once more, but it showed comparatively little outwardly. His words and demeanor reminded both Madam Pomfrey and Headmaster Dumbledore frighteningly of Severus Snape. "And what about the ramifications of sitting on our arses and doing nothing?" 

"Har..." 

"Every day we sit back and watch Voldemort carry on, is another day more innocent people will die!" Harry said, tossing his still long hair as he spoke in such a manner that would leave little doubt as to his paternity. "If The Order lets them carry on, it could mean half blood families like Seamus Finnegan's get offed! And where does that leave people like Hermione and her parents? Not to mention the muggles the Death Eaters seem to be attacking randomly these days for the sport of it!" 

"Come now, Harry, are you suggesting we just fortify our side and ambush them?" Madam Pomfrey asked derisively. 

"Better that than they ambush us or any more innocent people!" Harry shouted back, momentarily forgetting that everyone else in the hospital wing was supposed to be asleep at the moment. 

"MR. POTTER!" Madam Pomfrey shushed Harry through her teeth. 

"Yes I must insist that we discuss this at length at a more appropriate time." Albus watched as Madam Pomfrey administered another healing potion as she held her wand over Harry's side, causing all but the most severe bruising to fade. "After you've rested." Albus selected a set of hospital gowns from a nearby cabinet and helped Harry put them on. He had done this so often for Severus that he knew exactly which of the gowns would best fit him...or at least his body. 

"Shouldn't you give him a smaller set of gowns for when the Polyjuice wears off?" Madam Pomfrey asked. 

Albus nodded, retrieving another garment from the cabinet. 

"If I change back..." Harry muttered to himself, knowing that he had resembled Professor Snape for the better part of the night. Just what alterations had his father managed to work into the Polyjuice IV anyhow? 

Madam Pomfrey spelled the beds in such a way that a vacant one was placed next to Severus Snape's. Harry leaned against the Headmaster for support, and allowed the old wizard to lead him toward the empty bed. 

"Professor Dumbledore?" Harry whispered, his green eyes falling on the sleeping form of Severus Snape. "I would like to bid my father good night before I go to my bed." 

"Very Well," Albus said, carefully easing away from the wounded youth, after seeing to it that the boy was securely holding the bed rails for support. "Good Night, Harry." 

"Night..." Harry whispered to the headmaster as he cautiously lowered himself into the chair beside his father's bed. If Harry had felt no pain earlier in the midst of his rage with his injuries untended, he felt it tenfold now. Even though had been healed as much as he could be at that point, the agony was nearly unbearable now, and Harry could hardly keep from gasping each time he moved too much in any given direction. 

Not wanting to wake Severus, Harry sat quietly, just observing his father's sleeping form and taking the simplest pleasure in merely watching the man's rising and falling chest. He was alive. His precious father was still alive despite how Harry had endangered his life earlier in the evening. His breathing was very laboured though, and Harry was quite sure that he might not have been able to sleep without the aid of the muggle tranquillizers Dr. Chang had given him earlier. 

Harry's eyes came to rest on his father's left arm, which now ended at his heavily bandaged elbow. As the sleeves on Severus's gown were short, Harry could see where his sallow arms had been split open from his own magic just hours before; those grotesque, newly sutured wounds marred his father's already scarred arms further, leaving virtually no patches of blemish free, alabaster skin. 

"Oh, father." Harry said only in his mind. "You've suffered so much..." Harry could not even continue that thought. He lowered his head onto his father's chest and allowed himself to cry silently. When Severus didn't stir, Harry gently wrapped an arm around his father's middle and just held him as he wept. It felt so good to be holding his parent once more, somehow so comforting. His parent once lost... and never to be lost again, Not if it were in Harry's power. How could he have nearly thrown it all away for just a few minutes of pleasure whilst being healed by his father? It was a gamble with odds too high. 

Unbeknownst to Harry, Severus had awakened and was looking down at Harry in awe. Who was this person who looked just like him? Severus, in his heavily sedated state, decided some one had been experimenting illegally in human cloning, and had just neglected to inform him about it. 

'No wait, this wasn't a clone.' Severus thought as consciousness seeped into the vague mist of slumber. 'This was, this was...' 

"I'm so sorry, father." Harry whispered just before he dozed off, taking a welcome break from the day's carnage in the safety of a parent's arms. He had explored his father's chest and had rested his head in an area with only fading bruises on it, causing Severus only a negligible amount of discomfort. 

In fact, Severus found the contact was nearly soothing, even comforting. In the back of his mind, the memory of his earlier nightmare threatened. Was he capable of hurting Harry, as his own father had him? Severus resigned himself to the fact that he would have to distance himself from his son in order to protect him... 

But not jsut yet. Severus was in far too poor a condition in the immediate future to abuse Harry. For now, with only a sleeping audience bearing witness, he could take comfort in contact with his precious angel once more. He could take pride in his son's accomplishments. Enjoy his every gentle breath over the fabric of his hospital gown. Severus looked around the room to make sure no one was awake, then he wrapped his right arm around his precious child. "Good night, Harry." Severus said silently.

* * *

Because Dr. and Dr. Granger feared for their daughter's life as well as their own, they insisted Hermione accompany them to their dental offices the following morning. Their offices were part of a large muggle hospital, and at first Hermione balked at having to follow her parents to work, but warmed to the idea once her mother enticed her with a code to access the expansive medical library on the floor below the dental clinic. 

"You can compare potions to traditional muggle herbal medicines, dear." Hermione's father added, "just think of the revisions and reports you could turn in to your professors with that knowledge. 

Hermione perused magazines in her parent's clinic for about an hour before heading downstairs to the medical library. 

As she was kneeling close to the keypad whilst entering the code into the lock to the Medical Library, the ambulance bearing Draco Malfoy pulled up just outside the hospital...

* * *

"I would like to see my father please." Draco Malfoy implored in a manner far more polite than was customary of him. For a young man who had previously had no contact with the muggle world, the entire experience was frightening. All Draco knew was that non-magical people were little more than dirty barbarians who reproduced like insects, and went to war more often than Mudblood Granger, The Red Weasel and Happy Pottyhead annoyed him in classes. 

Now these filthy muggles had the power to either kill him or to heal them. They could cut him open and do whatever primitive thing they did to heal people, or they could remove a vital organ or two, then leave him to die. They could force a healing potion into his arm, or they could do the same with poison. 

Yes, Draco had no recourse but to be as nice as possible to these muggle healers and hope that they did not become wrathful and kill him. 

"Of course, Mr.. Uh...uh..." the intern said, reading Draco's chart, "Mal-foy. But we'll have to get you sorted out first. I'm Dr. Payne by the way." 

Draco's storm grey eyes grew wide. "Dr. Pain!" He mumbled to himself. 

"Nice to meet you, Draco Mal-foy." the doctor, who looked to be in his mid to late twenties shook the frightened teen's hand. 

Dr. Payne and Draco went over Draco's recently concocted 'medical history.' To uphold the secrecy of the magical world, St. Mungos had provided Draco with an alternate back story to relay to the muggle medical staff. Draco went on to Dr Payne how he and his parents had attended a football (or soccer) game in Beretaniashire between Hixvilleshire and their home team. When a very sketchy goal was scored by the Hixvilleshire team, some hooligans from the Beretaniashire side protested with a few well aimed Molotov cocktails, fists and beer bottles. Because the Hixvilleshire team had brought their own football hooligans, a spectacular melee ensued. 

"So you and your family were caught in all the fighting?" Dr. Payne asked, scribbling notes rapidly. 

"That's right, Dr. Pain." Draco replied, rolling his eyes at just how violent muggles seemed. Fighting at a sporting event indeed! Not even at the Quidditch World was there such violence. "We tried to reach the exits, but got trampled by mudbl- people trying to get out as well." 

"What an unfortunate situation. Well good job you're here for treatment then. Some people are so ashamed of hooligans supporting their home team, that they seek no medical attention at all when they get hurt in a riot...even though their injuries were due to no fault of their's. Oh well, let's see what we've got here then..." The doctor opened a nearby cupboard and pulled out a muggle hospital gown. "Now change into this, and we'll get started." 

"Uh... Dr. Pain?" Draco said, looking at the unfamiliar garment and turning it backwards and forwards. "Which way does this thing go?" 

"Oh, you've never been hospitalized before huh? The opening of the gown should be in the back." Dr Payne said as he made to leave the room. "Tie it at your neck." 

"Dr. Pain?" 

"Do you need some help?" The young doctor said, watching the pale youth struggling with the buttons on his unfamiliar muggle-type jacket. 

Being that the mediwitches and mediwizards at St. Mungos only healed him enough to save his life and to assure that a muggle hospital would still see fit to admit him, Draco still found it very painful to move. He could neither lift his arms very high or stand with his weight fully on either leg, and could therefore not easily remove the tattered muggle street clothes the staff at St. Mungos had dressed him in. "Yes." Draco said with a resignation entirely alien to him. Although it repulsed him to do so, he did not wish to chance the muggle healer's enmity and he added: "please."

* * *

Cho Chang awoke and slowly raised her head off of her grandfather's chest. Her chocolate brown eyes immediately fell upon Professor Snape, who was shivering violently in his sleep, and appeared to be missing an arm. Oddly enough, there was another Professor Snape in the bed immediately next to the first. 

As full consciousness gradually materialized, she deduced what events must have transpired. "So it wasn't a dream after all." Cho thought with growing apprehension. If one of the Snapes was indeed Harry, what did he do to end up in the infirmary? And if Harry had committed some sort of crime whilst in Snape's form... and if the real Snape had been hurt by what Harry did, then Cho had been an accomplice... it was she who helped Harry find the polyjuice potion, after all. She had not even tried to talk Harry out of whatever he had planned to do. Cho was also a guilty party. "Oh, Harry! What have you done?" 

"Bloody HELL!" Fred Weasley exclaimed as he entered the hospital wing with the remainder of the Weasley family. 

"Now Fred," Arthur warned, his voice still heavy with slumber. "There's no cause for you to use profanity." 

"And speak more quietly," Molly chided, smacking Fred's arm. "People are still sleeping." 

"Look!" Ron sputtered, motioning toward the two Professor Snapes laying unconscious on their beds. 

"I didn't know the greasy git had a twin!" George commented rather loudly. 

"BE QUIET!" Molly smacked him in the back of the head. 

At that, Harry was startled awake. He blearily scanned the room, wondering what had woke him. At seeing Ron and the rest of the Weasleys staring back at him, Harry smiled widely. Before the Weasleys, Harry had thought that functional, large family units were an elusive entity that existed only in paintings, idealized movies and the greatest works of fiction known to humanity. Arthur, Molly, Bill, Charlie, Percy, Fred, George, Ron and Ginny had taught Harry otherwise. Well, perhaps not always Percy, but still. Their cozy home, their cohesiveness, and the love that they had extended to Harry over the years proved to Harry that real loving families did indeed exist. 

Harry eagerly sat up and prepared to greet them, and realized almost immediately that he still resembled Professor Snape, The long silky hair he felt falling about his shoulders further attested to that fact. 

"The greasy git's gone mental!" Ron whispered to Fred and George, who all had never seen Professor Snape with a wide grin before. 

"Maybe that's not him!" Ginny piped as she smacked Ron in the back. "That must be Professor Snape's brother! The Snape who teaches potions is probably the one that is still asleep." 

"Oh yeah." Ron said, rubbing the stinging area on his back, and wondering why it seemed that the other Professor Snape appeared almost happy to see all of them. 

Harry swallowed hard. He knew he had blundered and would have to come up with a convincing explanation. 

But not just yet. Maybe no explanations were needed after all. He did his best to turn his smile into a sneer, which seemed to convince the group of redheads that he hadn't been smiling at all, and had just neglected to finish sneering properly. 

Harry breathed heavily with relief when Ginny leaned over her father and gave him a big hug. Her action prompted the Molly, Bill, Fred, George and Ron to follow suit. 

As the Weasleys began chattering with one another, Harry looked over to his own father's bed. As he still looked like Professor Snape, Harry concluded that it shouldn't raise too many suspicions if he went back into the chair between their beds and had his own "visit" with his father. 

He stopped when he noticed that his father was shuddering violently as he slept. What kind of assailants were attacking Severus Snape's dreams? Harry wondered silently as he decided it best to return to his own bed to observe the man's actions.

* * *

Young Severus Snape lay upon the blissful threshold between wakefulness and slumber. He had spent the better part of the day making speeches and engaging in 'intelligent conversation' with prominent members of the wizarding community at the party his family had thrown at Snape Manor that evening. Save for the exquisite food, lavish decor and garish dress robes everyone sported, there had been nothing particularly enjoyable about the party. Indeed, if Lucien had invited a whole graveyard's worth of corpses to the gathering, it would have been as exciting as a muggle music concert by comparison. 

Yes, Severus knew that these gatherings were for the sole purpose of impressing Lucien Snape's humbug friends and colleagues. Nothing more. Tomorrow, Lucien Snape would surely cut lucrative deals with apothecaries all over Europe and receive offers he could consider later in the week. Tomorrow, Mervidith Snape would be the talk of aristocratic witches throughout the wizarding world, and would receive the usual invitations to exclusive clubs and gatherings that Severus knew she secretly despised. Tomorrow, Severus Snape would be returning for the start of his Seventh year at Hogwarts. 

As sleep gradually overcame the young man, he could not help but notice how his father resembled two of the guests at the party. Namely the Aristocratic Mr. Malfoy and his son Lucius, who had left Hogwarts just a few years six years earlier. Lucius looked so much like Lucien in fact, that Severus was sure if Lucius were to bleach his hair several shades or so lighter, the two men would look like twins. Even though Lucius was at least twelve years younger than Lucien, the age difference was negligible in the wizarding world, and the two still looked like brothers nonetheless. 

When Severus could catch Lucien in a good mood, he would be sure to ask just how closely the Malfoys were related to the Snapes. Pure blooded wizard families in Britain tended to be at least distantly related to one another, whether by blood or by marriage. It was not even unheard of for second cousins to marry when more suitable partners could not be found. 

Yet the resemblance between Lucien Snape and Lucius Malfoy was uncanny. Save for the fact that Lucien's hair was almost white, while Lucius had very light blonde hair, both men wore it in almost the same length and style. Lucien's eyes were the colour of a frozen ocean while Lucius had eyes the colour of a stormy sky; yet their glares held the same intensity and in many cases the same malice... 

Brothers... Severus mused. The haughty, vain and humbug Lucius Malfoy, brother of the ill-tempered and abusive Lucien Snape. 

Severus could not recall when he had succumbed to slumber, but he was abruptly awakened by a coarse hand cupped over his mouth, and the sensation of his hair being grasped roughly. Panicking, he tried to move, but found that his arms and legs were being restrained by at least three sets of burly hands. 

Severus immediately recognized his assailants. There were guests who had been at the party earlier. He also noticed that they all smelled heavily of firewhiskey and other hard liquors. 

"So, you are the great Severus Snape!" One of the men spat. "Your reputation precedes you!" 

Although he tried to respond, Severus's words were absorbed into the large hand over his mouth. The man grasping a chunk of Severus's long hair tugged it sharply as he went on. "My name is Malcolm Oduruss, President of the Oduruss Potion Supply Company. Do you have any idea how much business you have cost us over the last five years or so?" 

The seventeen year old just shook his head as much as the burly hand over his mouth allowed. 

"Deals with the apothecaries in the United States! Deals with the apothecaries in Japan and the rest of Asia! We had exclusive formulations no other potion brewers could concoct, and we could sell them to the apothecaries for hundreds of galleons! Until some one who could brew something nearly identical came along!" The man shouted, yanking on the lock of hair for emphasis. "It took some doing to discover who was breeching our secrets, and selling comparable potions for a song, but some of your customers develop very ready tongues when you pay them off. And what did we find? YOU..!" The man said derisively. Without preamble, he reached under Severus's teal nightshirt and clutched his target firmly. "You!" He scoffed as he tightened his grip. "Why, you're little more than a boy!" 

Severus shrieked, and struggled fiercely under the men's grasp, but one of them punched him squarely in the nose, then followed it with a blow to the chest. 

"Once we had a lead on who our little saboteur was, we got in good with your father." another man continued, stopping only to chant a spell which caused a magical knife to appear, "and he played his part well, inviting us to his little party so we could persuade you to stop your operations from your school in a more... agreeable fashion." 

How Severus wanted to protest that he hadn't made all that many deals with the apothecaries. How could his selling a few bottles to occasional markets in North America and Asia hurt a larger corporation like Oduruss? 

The man waved the knife threateningly close to Severus's cheek. "But we'll let you in on a little secret... When you were making your eloquent speeches today, none of us were paying a whole lot of attention to what you were saying..." the man lowered the knife to Severus's chest, which was rising and falling rapidly now. "We were watching you!" With that, the man slashed through the thin fabric of the youth's nightshirt, slicing deeply into his flesh as well. 

Severus struggled fiercely and screamed into the man's vigorous hand. The attacker holding Severus's legs drew his wand and aimed it at the door, and uttered a silencing, then a locking charm. The youth continued to scream and shimmy regardless. He suspected what they had planned to do, and they most certainly would not be gentle about it. 

"Your daddy won't hear you," Mr Oduruss taunted, producing his own knife and cutting through one of Severus's sleeves. "We made sure to lay in wait just inside the wards, until he and your mum were in bed before coming here! Don't worry though, they'll see you in the morning after we've had a bit of fun with you." Mr, Oduruss roughly slashed through the youth's other sleeve, making a deep gash along his thin, sallow arm. "You won't be able to tell your mummy and daddy what we did to you though, as we'll be sure to kill you, and mop up all the evidence when we've amused ourselves sufficiently." The rancorous man made a final cut through Severus's undergarments, leaving a deep, bleeding gash along his hip. 

Divested of any protection whatsoever, Severus frantically made another attempt to break free. To his surprise, his assailants apparently released him, and subsequently broke out into peals of laughter. "Go on, Snape Jr!" one of the thugs teased. "Take your best shot! Go call your daddy! Maybe we'll do him too! After all that firewhiskey, even he's enticing." 

Not caring that he was naked, Severus made a desperate run for the door, rather than trying to fight back. Mr. Oduruss merely cast a leg locking charm, sending the youth crashing to the floor. The men roared even louder. 

"Oh how the mighty Severus Snape has fallen!" Mr. Oduruss said, lifting the charm and kicking the youth firmly in the side. When Severus doubled over and clutched himself, Mr. Oduruss kicked him in the face, knocking him backwards onto the carpet. 

They allowed Severus to make another attempt to flee. He made it as far as the door before the assailants pounced on him again. 

Severus staggered to his feet when they let him up, but walked directly into the third goon's knuckles. 

"Hey Snape!" one of the other thugs mocked as he grabbed Snape's long hair and proceeded to drag him back toward his bed. "You really must be a virgin! Because you do not seem to know that a carpet in not the most suitable place for activities of this sort! Yet you seem to love returning to the floor. What do you wish to do, give us all rugburn?" 

Severus tried once again to break free, but found himself being tossed callously onto the very bed he had fallen asleep in just hours before. Before he could make another attempt at flight, the men were on him, pummelling him with a relentless barrage of fists. 

"Please," Severus begged, "Do not do this." 

Mr. Oduruss drew his knee back and slammed it into the youth's groin. "You did not stop brewing your illegal potions when we asked you nicely to do so. Tell me why we should not take our payment?" 

Searing pain ripped through Severus as he started gagging and coughing. When he thought he could bear no more, Mr Oduruss kicked him again. Severus screamed, and continued doing so as the sharp pains resonated throughout his body. 

"I'm a boy! I'm just a boy..." Severus choked out. 

"We've noticed!" One of the thugs shouted appreciatively. 

Severus gathered what little breath he was able, and prepared to ask the men how could a simple boy like himself be a threat to any corporations. The words died in his throat when Mr. Oduruss rolled Severus onto his stomach and proceeded to disrobe. 

Just then, Lucien Snape kicked the door in. Suffering from a bout of insomnia, Lucien had meant to see if Severus was still awake. Because the party had been so successful, Lucien was still in a good mood, and wanted to share a cup of freshly prepared cocoa with his son. At finding Severus's door magically locked and silenced, Lucien suspected the worst, for Severus wasn't allowed to do magic outside of school yet. 

All of his suspicions had been correct. 

One of the men aimed his wand at Lucien. Infuriated, Lucien ducked under the blast and dove into the man's legs, knocking him to the floor. In a swift motion, Lucien drew his wand and ripped open the man's jugular vein. 

Mr Oduruss and his two remaining thugs took aim, but Lucien was so incensed that none of them had any time to act. The pale man swung his body sideways and scissor-kicked one of the thugs to the carpet. On his way down, he struck the other thug in the knees, sending him reeling as well. 

Mervidith Snape, who had been rudely awakened by the commotion now resounding throughout the house, entered Severus's room and screamed at the sight that met her. "Sevvie!" She was at his side a fraction of a second later. "Oh Merlin, you're bleeding! What happened!" 

Mr Oduruss made to grab the lithe woman, but Mervidith picked up one of Severus's text books from a nearby shelf and slammed it into the man's jaw, knocking out two of his teeth. 

Lucien adopted the behaviours of a wild animal,and hurled curses and hexes almost indiscriminately. Even Mervidith had to gather her son and pull him out of the way. Severus went willingly, appearing to be so in shock that he couldn't escape on his own. 

There was something inhuman about the way Lucien carried on. Not even Mervidith had ever seen her husband behave in such a feral, unbridled way. The thugs were granted no quarter to regroup. Indeed Lucien allowed them no opportunity to get off the floor and struck each of them down in turn. 

Lucien withdrew a cord from the curtains and wrapped it around one of the thug's legs. It was the thug whose jugular vein he had severed, and the blood ran out of his neck in a grotesque stream. 

"SEVERUS!" Lucien rounded on his son after beating Mr Oduruss's face until it was only barely recognizable as human. "Get over here and fight these animals! Teach them the penalty for violating you!" 

But Severus only withdrew to a corner in the room. He had drawn his knees to his chest, buried his face in his arms, and was sobbing. 

Exasperated, Lucien stomped over to his son and yanked him out of the corner by the wrist. He threw Severus onto the bed and examined him roughly, as though the boy were nothing more than a carcass to be readied for the cauldron. "Well that's good, they didn't violate you! What on Earth are you crying for?" Lucien shouted at last. "Go! Go and fight them like a man!" 

When Severus didn't move, Lucien hauled him over to where the men still lay on the floor. "Kill THEM!" 

"Father," Severus whimpered, the blood from his own injuries dropping to the floor and mingling in the carpet with the greater quantity of blood from his assailants. "They're already dead..." 

"Well he's not dead yet!" Lucien screamed at the sound of Mr Oduruss's rasping breaths. "Kill him!" 

"LUCIEN!" Mervidith shouted. "Sevvy's not allowed to do magic outside of school!" 

"Who said he needs to use magic?" Lucien picked up one of the knives that had been used earlier to remove Severus's clothes and handed it to the traumatised youth. "Kill HIM!" 

At the sight of what his father had put into his hand, Severus cried out. He dropped the knife to the floor, shaking even more fiercely. 

Lucien removed his belt and struck Severus sharply in the back, leaving a bright red welt. "What are you waiting for? Kill him! Make him pay for trying to use you like his personal toy!" He brought the belt down once more across Severus's back. 

"LUCIEN!" shrieked Mervidith. "How could you be so cruel! Our son is already hurt!" 

"And he will continue to be hurt until he learns to fight back!" Lucien shouted, threatening to strike Severus again. 

"Okay... fa-ther" Severus sobbed as he picked up the knife and moved it slowly to Mr Oduruss's neck. 

"DO IT!" Lucien yelled again, bringing the belt sharply between Severus's shoulder blades. The seventeen year old screamed again. 

Mervidith had seen enough. She stomped over and punched Lucien with such force that he was sent reeling. He ended up upsetting one of Severus's bookshelves as he went down. 

"Lucien," Mervidith said, gathering some towels, and kneeling beside her son. "Look at him!" She pressed a towel to one of the deeper gashes. "He needs medical attention!" 

"What for? They didn't rape him!" Lucien rubbed his bruised cheek as he spoke. "And what are we supposed to tell the staff at St. Mungos when they try to call the aurors?" 

"Great Merlin, Lucien!" Mervidith said, desperately trying to halt the bleeding from the gash along her son's right arm. "They still hurt him!" 

Severus collapsed to the floor and curled into a protective ball. He had always hated when his parents quarrelled, particularly since it invariably resulted in his mother being beaten to within an inch of her life. He especially hated it when they fought over him. 

Lucien exhaled deeply and stomped over the closet. "For Merlin's sake! Put on some clothes, you're nearly an adult! You're too old to be naked in front of your mother." he yelled as he threw Severus a clean nightshirt. 

Too afraid to risk infuriating Lucien Snape further, Severus sat up and pulled his arm into one of the sleeves. The other sleeve eluded him and he scrambled to don the garment. The more he struggled, the less cooperative his clothes seemed, and soon the pale blue nightshirt was stained in splotches of bright red and was stuck to his skin where the bleeding was still heavy. 

"Ohh!" Mervidith groaned, forestalling her son at last. "Heal him!" 

"Bloody heal him yourself!" Lucien snapped, slicing one of the corpses on the floor all the way from the neck to the pubic bone. 

"And what are you doing?" Mervidith asked, laying the clean towels on Severus's bed. 

"What?" Lucien retorted, running out of the room and returning shortly thereafter with a stack of clean containers. "Surely you don't think I'm going to let these...beasts... go to waste." 

"You're not going to call the aurors?" Mervidith asked in horror as she wrapped Severus in a blanket and assisted him to the bed. 

"No, I most certainly will not call the aurors!" Lucien replied, mimicking Mervidith's tone as he proceeded to place the corpse's internal organs into jars. "What would you have me tell them? 'I caught the President of Oduruss Potions Supply Company and his board members about to rape my son, so I killed them?'" 

"That is what happened. And besides, these are high profile wizards, people are bound to come looking for them..." Mervidith said, concentrating her magic onto one of the gashes. 

"We have the perfect cover!" the pale haired man replied, cutting chunks of flesh and placing them into one of the jars. "These miscreants left the party relatively early, and a lot of the guests saw them leave! If they came back to molest their host's kid and were killed by said host, it's their own error!" 

Mervidith inhaled deeply and leaned into Severus's bed after healing one of the larger gashes on Severus's body. Because her wand had been broken by ministry officials many years before, Mervidith could only get away with performing small acts of wandless magic. These acts took a heavy toll on her, but she stubbornly persevered. After a few seconds of respite, she began channelling her energies for another wound. 

"Oh! Enough!" Lucien shouted, stomping off to Severus's loo to wash his hands. "I'll heal him." 

Lucien made quick work of Severus's wounds. After applying salves to Severus's lesser wounds, Lucien hastily pulled another clean night shirt over the youth's body. "Come and help me, boy! Destroy all evidence that these whoresons were ever here!" 

"Can you not let him rest?" Mervidith protested. "He has to leave for Hogwarts in the morning!" 

"Why do YOU not rest? No one invited you in here." Lucien grabbed Mervidith by her nightgown and threw her out of Severus's room. "You sapped a lot of your own energies healing the whelp after all." 

"And you! Help me harvest these potion ingredients," Lucien ordered, handing Severus a pair of gloves and a set of scalpels. "Human ingredients are something a potion master doesn't have access to every day, after all." 

Severus took one look at the bodies on the floor and shivered, the memories of what these men had attempted to do still fresh in his mind. 

"You!" Lucien shouted, taking his belt and proceeding to beat Severus again. "You will do as you are told! These things are not men anymore! They are potions ingredients! We do not have the opportunity to acquire human ingredients very often. They do not deserve a proper burial, they are things! Anyone who tries to molest any son of mine is a thing!" By this time, Lucien had Severus leaning over his desk as he beat the boy relentlessly with his belt. Within seconds, he was breaking the fabric of Severus's nightshirt and leaving red stripes all over his exposed flesh. "So get over your petty fears and get to work!" 

As always, Mervidith ran into the room and tried to protect her son. "What kind of father are you? What father beats a son who is already hurt?" 

Lucien then turned on her and beat her mercilessly, accusing her of encouraging her son's cowardly behaviours. 

"Only an inhuman father would beat a child who is already hurt!" Mervidith screamed as Lucien backhanded her once more. "If you loved your son, you wouldn't beat him! Especially now! He needs us both!" 

Severus tearfully held the knife to Mr. Oduruss. His eyes were so full of tears that he could not see what he was doing, but he knew human anatomy enough to go by feel alone. His mother's screams continued to fill the silence as she was now the one being brutally assaulted. 

"Please, father." Severus whimpered, incoherant. "Stop..."

* * *

Severus awoke to the sensation of a cold substance entering the intravenous tube in his arm. He opened his watery eyes, and was met with his own face smiling upon him ... with bright green eyes. 

"Oh father!" Harry said, his smile looking so strange coming from what appeared to be Snape's own face. "We've been trying to wake you for hours! I'm so glad you're conscious again." 

"How are you feeling Professor Snape?" Dr. Chang asked, withdrawing a needle from the IV line. 

"Fine..." Severus lied. "Never better." 

Heedless of anyone who might be watching, Harry threw his arms around Severus's neck and hugged him gently so as not to exacerbate the man's injuries. "You were like that for hours! You looked almost dead! What was going on? What's wrong?" 

"Nightmares..." was all Severus offered as explanation, even as tears clung to his dark lashes. 

After Dr. Chang completed her check on Snape, she moved on the next patient. Harry leaned close to his father. "Would you like to tell me about your nightmare? I have them too and..." 

"NO!" Severus shouted loud enough to draw the attention of people in the immediate area. He waited until they turned away before continuing. "I do not wish to speak about my... nightmares. But I am curious..." he paused as he met the boy's bright green eyes, then lowered his voice to a tone just below a whisper. "What have you done, Harry?" 

"What?" 

"Why do you look like me now?" Severus asked diverting the topic into safer territory, his voice even softer now. 

From across the room, Ron Weasley gazed in wonder at the two Snapes End Part Sixteen 


	17. Mental Instability

**Remembrance and Renewal** by **Nigel Tatsuya** and **Avatar Arkmage**

Chapter Seventeen: **Mental Instability**

"Uh..." Harry began, watching Severus attempt his customary glare with the remains of tears still glistening faintly in his obsidian eyes. "It was polyjuice potion...thepolyjuiceIV..." 

When Harry trailed off, and did not continue for almost a full minute, Severus pressed further, taking care to keep any hint of anger or surprise out of his tone. The last thing he wanted to do was scare the boy into silence. "Polyjuice IV? May I inquire as to where you procured the Polyjuice IV potion?" 

"From your labs, sir." 

Severus moved closer until his face was nothing more than a blur to Harry. "You stole from my labs!" 

Harry wiped minute quantities of saliva from his face; depending on how angry Severus was, he had the annoying habit of spitting whilst he talked. "Yes, I did sir." 

"Tell me," his voice dropped several decibels below what human ears could normally perceive. To Harry however, Severus may as well have been shouting. "Why would you do such a thing? Surely you're not such a..." 

"Severus," called Albus Dumbledore from just behind Harry. Severus was almost certain that the anti-apparition wards at Hogwarts made exceptions for the barmy Headmaster, for neither Harry nor Severus had seen him approach. "Perhaps we should discuss these matters in a more private location. Severus, are you well enough to..." 

The dark haired man had already thrown his covers aside and was starting to climb out of the narrow hospital bed. Not wanting to invoke Poppy's wrath, but knowing that Severus was going to walk out of the infirmary with or without assistance; Harry and Albus wrapped a blanket around him, took their places on either side of the dour potions master, and hastily walked escorted him out.

* * *

Draco had feared that his experience in the muggle hospital would make the prospect of being imprisoned in a tiny box filled with blast ended skrewts seem a more desirable fate by comparison. Oddly enough, he found it a time of wonder. There were amazing, albeit odd new things and experiences awaiting him each moment he was awake. The muggles were admittedly resourceful, and coped rather well for beings bereft of magical prowess. 

The Malfoy heir even found himself immensely enjoying the programmes in the strange telly box in his room. He had initially been startled by it. How did non-magical folk shrink themselves to perform in such a tiny box? When one of the matrons first powered it on for him, he screamed in terror at the sight of alien troops firing weapons on a group of humans armed with curious blast sticks which fired lightning bolts. 

"Oh!" the matron gasped, "you don't like science fiction, do you? Very well, let us see if there is something else you might enjoy..." 

"AIiii!" Draco screeched when a man wearing brightly coloured feathers and body paints fired a flaming arrow at him. 

Thankfully the matron switched the telly to another station before the flaming arrow could come through the glass screen, which probably would not offer adequate protection against the flaming arrow. The matron handed Draco the tiny box which controlled the telly. "Here you are, Draco, you watch what you like." 

The matron quickly showed Draco how to operate the call buttons, as well as the channel changer. After inadvertently calling the nurses enough times to get them sufficiently annoyed, Draco learned that the telly box was an inocuous, and ingenious form of entertainment. He particularly liked a show featuring brightly coloured princesses who were capable of powerful forms of magic called Sailor Moon SuperS. 

Draco also found that he enjoyed another show featuring a funny muggle named Benny Hill, who could move extremely fast, especially when other muggles were chasing him. 

"So muggles really **CAN** do magic!" Draco mused, watching the bespectacled man and his elderly companion elude an irate mob at speeds he had never seen wizards or witches accomplish without the aid of brooms or spells. 

Even the food wasn't too bad. Draco's breakfast of pancakes, bangers and eggs tasted very similar to anything the house elves at home would serve, perhaps even better. It was the drink with fruits, yogurt and crushed ice a pretty muggle nurse served him later on that intrigued him greatly. The pretty nurse, who Draco could have kicked himself for not learning her name because he was too busy watching her form fitting nurse outfit, said the drink was called a smoothie. Apparently muggles employed magical people who could spell food cold, or else they used muggles like Benny Hill or Jackie Wright who could run really fast to and from the tops of mountains to retrieve snow for the smoothies. 

When Dr. Payne looked in on Draco sometime later, he brought along another pretty nurse in a white uniform. Draco entertained the thought of Madam Pomfrey abandoning her loose magical nurse robes in favor of the more fitting muggle nurse variety. Draco then castigated himself for even thinking sich thoughts about Madam Pomfrey. 

"Well, Mr...uh...Mal-foy." Dr. Payne said, helping the pale wizard to sit up. "If you're feeling up to it, you may visit your father now." 

Draco eagerly tried to stand, but only succeeded in taking a few awkward steps before falling into the pretty nurse's arms. 

"Oh no, no, no." Dr Payne said, gently guiding Draco to a wheelchair. "You're not in any condition to walk all the way to the maxillofacial surgery ward yet! Nurse Asphalt will take you there." 

"Nurse Assault!" Draco gasped under his breath, hoping that the nurse wasn't as violent as her name indicated. If there was anything worse than a doctor whose name was 'Pain,'it was a matron called 'Assault.' What were the names of the other staff? Battery? Mutilation? Pogrom? 

Nurse Asphalt steered the wheelchair out of the hospital room and down a long corridor. Draco sincerely wished that nurses pulled the wheeled chairs rather than pushed them, not because he wanted to enjoy staring at the nurse's well fitting dress, but because he was very nervous to have some one named 'Assault' where he couldn't readily see her.

* * *

"Professor Dumbledore?" Harry wasted no time once they arrived in the Headmaster's office. 

"Yes, Harry?" 

"I know you both want me to explain what I did last night, and why I did it." Harry stole a brief glance at Severus, who glowered at him in return, as much as to say 'no, whatever would lead you to THAT conclusion?' "But I think it would be easier if I...if I showed you." Although Harry lowered his eyes, he knew that both Albus and Severus were listening intently. Professor Dumbledore, I wonder if I might borrow your Pensieve?" 

"Are you certain that is what you wish, Harry?" 

Harry nodded, his still long black hair framing his face as he leaned forward. 

Without hesitation, Albus waved his hand, and the stone basin levitated from its hiding place in a nearby cabinet. It landed directly in front of Harry. After some brief instructions from the Headmaster, Harry retrieved his wand from his sleeve, and slowly pulled a silvery strand from his temple. 

The teen could not help but marvel at the tremendous relief he felt once the thought was removed from his head. He could still remember the particular sequence of events, but somehow the images no longer had its frightening clarity, or its accompanying myriad of painful emotions. It was almost as though the scenes were from some one else's life and experiences, almost like watching a picture of sorts. 

Harry tentatively placed the strand into the basin and tapped it with his wand. Because Severus still could not have direct contact with anything magical, Harry tapped the semi-liquid surface of the bowl once more, as he had watched Albus do during his fourth year at Hogwarts. The image of the Headmaster and Harry obediently rose into the air just above the stone basin and began revolving very slowly. 

"Harry," the Headmaster's image echoed in the silent office. "Voldemort has forced your father to ingest the Interventio Interferus potion, are you familiar with its properties?" 

"No sir," the image of Harry echoed back. "We haven't studied that in class yet." 

"It is not likely that you would have, for this variant was first developed by dark wizards, and refined by Severus himself during his service to Voldemort. The potion was favored greatly by inquisitors as they could torture a witch or wizard, and then force the victim to ingest the potion." The image of Harry looked both perplexed and saddened simultaneously, and the Headmaster continued in a softer voice. "That potion would prevent healing by any magical means, greatly prolonging the victim's suffering. In fact, even very low levels of magic used by or around the victim could prove fatal." 

"So that's why father couldn't be healed?" Harry's image shouted as he stood abruptly, knocking several shiny trinkets off of the Headmaster's desk. 

"And why he could not safely use his magics to brew a potion that would have facilitated his healing, or at the very least, eased his suffering." Albus sighed, as he continued explaining the potion's effects as well as recapping highlights in the potion's infamous history that Poppy Pomfrey had told him about in the previous week. 

It was apparent to Severus that Harry hadn't been listening fully that day as his bright green eyes filled with tears. Eyes that reminded Severus so much of his beloved Lily. So much like Lily was their son. "Oh NO! I asked him to heal me!" The pain emanating from Harry's image could be felt by all present in the room. The image bit on his lower lip and collapsed to the floor sobbing. "Why didn't father tell me! WHY? WHY? He's suffered enough!" Harry's image looked up, crying fiercely now. "He's suffered too much in his life! I can't stand the thought of him suffering anymore! And YET! AND YET I DID THIS TO HIM! I caused this!" 

"Harry, you didn't know." Albus said, rubbing Harry's back. 

"NO ONE TOLD ME!" snarled Harry, hiding his face in his hands. "WHY! How could he not tell me? How could **YOU ** not tell me, Professor Dumbledore?" 

"It was not my story to devul–" 

"TO Bloody HELL with THAT!" Harry screamed, standing and stomping in front of the Headmaster. For a moment, it looked as though Harry were going to strike the old man, but struck the empty chair instead, knocking it across the room." 

After a while of pacing the office like an animal locked in an enclosure several sizes too small to adequately house it, Harry slowed and started sobbing like a sick child. "Oh Professor Dumbledore, I'm sorry. I'm really sorry I did that." 

The Headmaster patted the youth's shoulders soothingly. 

"It's just that..." the Harry in the pensieve dashed his tears away, only to have them replaced by new and more dense tears. "I may have hated Professor Snape before, but that was before I really saw him for who he was. I didn't stop to think why he acted the way he did before. It was easy just to think of him as a grouchy old git, but I can't see him that way anymore. I can almost understand why he acts as he does. He's suffered so much, lost so many people who he loved and who loved him, and I ... I just don't want him to suffer anymore." Harry paused for a while as his lower lip started trembling in a fashion so similar to Severus's that were it not for the fact that Harry looked like James, it would have been like seeing his own reflection. " I love him!" He mouthed silently, but it was clear to Severus what the Harry in the pensieve had said. "He's all I have and I'll be DAMNED if he suffers any more, and I don't want him to ever suffer because of me ever again!" 

"When I had nearly drowned, my spirit was freed from my body for some time afterwards." the image of Harry continued, "I hated it in the beginning when I found out that Professor Snape was my biological father, but when I saw how different he was before Voldemort forced the mark on him... and after he took the mark... when I saw him missing me after he thought he had denied me life..." 

Severus turned to gaze upon the real Harry, and saw that the boy was covering his ears, and had lowered his head so that his long hair was obscuring his eyes. The grimaces on the image of Harry spoke volumes. It was too painful for him to continue. The Headmaster tried to offer comfort, but Harry just fended off his hands and ran out of Dumbledore's office. 

The next image the Pensieve generated took place inside of Snape's chambers. Harry had changed into his pajamas and looked abnormally calm as he told the aged headmaster that he was going to sleep. Both Snape and Dumbledore seemed disturbed by the expression on Harry's face. It was almost blank, yet the boy's green eyes seemed to burn as though they generated destructive quantities of radiation. Almost immediately after the Headmaster left, Harry got dressed and practically sprinted out of the room. 

Harry was also watching the Pensieve's images along with Severus and Albus now, for he could not fully recall all the events that had transpired then. 

He watched as he dragged Cho to the dungeons and coerced her into assisting him. Harry covered his eyes when he saw his image covertly taking Snape's arm from the cooling unit. Harry was further shocked when he saw himself taking a fine needle from Dr. Chang's black bag and using it to withdraw blood from his father's unconscious form before fleeing back to the dungeons. Once there, he added a few drops of his father's blood to the polyjuice IV vial and drank it. 

At first, nothing happened, and Harry was so incensed that he started throwing things all over the dungeons. He stopped only when he noticed that he was throwing items farther, and that his clothes were suddenly too small for him. Harry, Snape and Dumbledore watched in wonder as the image of Harry morphed into a perfect replica of his father. After putting on a set of Professor Snape's clothes and Death Eater robes, Harry picked up a hairbrush and brushed his now long hair. 

"Always wanted to see what you looked like with brushed hair, father." Harry muttered to his reflection before he fled the castle and used the arm to apparate to Voldemort's side. 

The real Severus jumped out of his chair and stomped over to where the real Harry was sitting. Before Dumbledore could react, Severus grabbed Harry's shoulder fiercely. 

"YOU WENT TO VOLDEMORT!" Severus whispered harshly. "You deliberately put yourself in harm's reach? Are you so vain that you think you can fight him?" 0 

Although Severus had not grabbed Harry's shoulder particularly hard, Harry froze at the intensity of his father's actions. He closed his eyes, half expecting to be punched, slapped or at the very least shaken roughly. 

Severus stopped when the Pensieve showed Harry, now in the guise of Snape, at the entrance to an abandoned warehouse. At the far end of what the Pensieve showed, was Voldemort, roughly forcing Mervidith Snape onto a pile of old rags as Wormtail looked on. 

Severus released Harry and watched as his image attacked the Dark Lord with an intensity he would have never guessed Harry capable of. Dumbledore, Snape, and Harry made no sound as they watched the carnage unfold. All, including Harry, were astounded at Harry's endurance and power as well as the raw anger and determination blazing in his dark eyes.

* * *

Nurse Asphalt wheeled Draco into a brightly lit room in the maxillofacial surgery ward. There were four beds in the spacious room, yet only one of them was occupied. 

"Father?" Draco said tentatively as the Nurse wheeled him closer to the pale man in the bed. The man's long ashen hair had been fixed into a loose plait and hung over the man's left shoulder. His face was covered in cuts and bruises that muggle interventions could not heal instantaneously. His right arm was bound in a sling and his hand was heavily bandaged. 

Although the man could not answer for reasons Draco could not fully understand, Lucius Malfoy turned slightly to attempt to face his teenaged son. Draco wanted to admonish his father right away for allowing the Death Eaters to use the Malfoy family as a source of amusement, but at seeing his father's poor condition, he decided to keep the conversation mild for the time being. 

Knowing that muggles would not care, Draco placed a hand gently over his father's left hand, which save for some bruising, was comparatively in good condition. "I'm relieved you're still alive, father." Draco said in his usual haughty voice, "With these muggles still practicing Neanderthal potions, and barbarian surgeries I was starting to get worried. " 

Lucius uttered a soft moan. 

"Have you seen the telly box father?" Draco asked, turning on the television to a televised football game. 

Lucius reached over to Draco with his semi-good hand and patted his arm. 

"I guess you couldn't tell the monkeys the lie about why we're here huh, father?" Draco asked watching one of the muggle players on one team moon a player on the opposing team. "Well this is the game we supposedly got our beatings at." 

The older man's grey eyes widened in confusion. 

"Oh, I suppose you were in too bad a state to even remember when you were brought here," Draco said, absently stroking his dad's pale fingers with his own. "Well the folks at St. Mungos said I had to tell the monkey medifolk that we went to watch one of those muggle football games. And that our team had violent people called hooligans, who fought with the other team's hooligans and we were supposedly caught in the melee." 

Lucius seemed almost amused, but he only hacked and wretched rather than laughed. 

"It's more inane than funny, father." Draco said, sneering towards the closed door. "I wonder what a Molotov cocktail is? Because that's what our team's hooligans supposedly threw at the other team." 

Lucius uttered what sounded like an 'I wouldn't know.' and/or 'I don't want to know.' 

Draco and Lucius watched the televised football game for a while in silence, each enjoying the other's company. Both father and son found themselves marveling at the muggle players' abilities to play a game entirely without the use of magic. They seemed to be able to control the ball as well with their feet as any beater in quidditch could do with their clubs. 

"Oh yes, I almost forgot, father." Draco said, laughing in a disdainful way. "Do you know that muggle hooligans at these games fight with beer bottles?" 

"Mey mrooph?" 

"Oh yes!" Draco said, smiling scornfully towards the door to the main part of the hospital again. "What a bunch of oafs!" 

Their largely one sided conversation was halted by a knock at the door. 

"Mr. Draco Malfoy?" the pretty nurse called from the door. "Dr. Payne says I'll have to take you back to your room in five minutes." 

"Tell Dr. Pain 'I said okay.'" Draco called back, watching as the nurse once again disappeared behind the door. 

Draco looked around the room to make sure he wasn't being observed, then he leaned over and hugged the elder Malfoy. Although Lucius could not say anything, and his face was too bruised to show much of his emotions, he made a contented sound and patted his son on the shoulder. 

It was then that Draco noticed something frightening when his father's lips parted into a small smile. His father's jaws had been totally immobilized and appeared to have been stitched together by what appeared to be steel wires. 

Draco jumped back in horror. "OHH!" he gasped. "What have they done to you father?" 

Draco's sudden reaction startled Lucius, causing him to reflexively attempt to open his mouth in surprise. The action caused several of the wired areas of his jaw to start bleeding. 

Panicking, the pale youth charged out of the room, hoping to call for help, but at the same time, Draco did not want to consult with these monkey-brained muggle healers. He ran, not feeling the pain from his battered body, and knocking over several medical personnel in the process. 

They had sewn his father's jaw shut with metal wires...metal wires! That surely was a form of torture wasn't it? Draco continued running, hoping to find anyone who looked remotely like a Mediwitch or mediwizard.

* * *

Severus, Harry and Albus had not once removed their eyes from the Pensieve's images. They had watched the fight in its entirety. As the ultimate anticlimax to it all, Voldemort and Wormtail fled. 

Although he knew better, Severus had been anticipating Harry's win. He longed to see some one bring the Dark Lord down. 

Who better than a son to do it? 

Then again...the fool boy had risked his life. 

Severus rose out of his chair once more and ambled over to Harry. "How could you be so foolish!" Severus shouted in a whisper, shaking Harry with his remaining arm. "Taking on the Dark Lord alone like that!" 

"SEVERUS stop that!" Albus shouted, moving in between the father and son. 

Harry had his eyes closed tightly. He had seen how harshly his grandfather had dealt with Severus when he committed any infraction of the rules. Surely Severus had learnt those lessons well and was about to pass them on to Harry. 

Fear overcame him though. "Don't beat me, father. Please don't beat me!" Harry cried, shielding his face and turning away in shame. "I know grandad would have hammered you if you did something like this, but please don't hammer me. At least not in front of Headmaster Dumbledore... If you want to punish me back in the dungeons however..." 

Severus looked at Harry in terror. Was he really about to deal with Harry the way Lucien would have dealt with him? All at once, the memories of Lucien flooded to the forefront once more. Severus released Harry's upper arm as though it had suddenly caught on fire, and backed away. Where his hand had been, there were darkening red marks, which would very likely develop into bruising. "Oh, Merlin!" Severus said, his voice faltering. "Harry... I..." Severus continued to back away until ne nearly lost his footing. He would have landed on the floor were it not for Albus, who quickly summoned a chair for him to fall bonelessly into.

* * *

"Confound it!" shouted Lucien, pouring preserving potions onto an amorphous chunk of flesh in a sterile container. "Severus! You will stop your infernal snivelling this instant, and carry out your task!" 

Although Severus had been working on Mr. Oduruss' carcass for nearly a half hour, he had managed only a single, long incision along the stout man's chest and abdomen. Try as he might, he could not proceed any further. For one, he had never had to disembowel a human before, and for another, looking at this man made him feel utterly sick. This man had tried to violate him in one of the worst possible ways, after all, and his hands trembled even more with each time he thought on it. Finally, Severus' eyes were so full of tears that he could not see clearly enough to complete his task with any satisfactory degree of proficiency. 

"Listen, boy!" Lucien grabbed Severus by the collar of his nightshirt and lifted him off the floor. "Are you going to allow whoresons like these, who would tear your arse open for their own amusement, go unpunished? Or does the thought of such a violation of your body excite you?" 

Severus shook his head fervently, but did not say anything, for he knew he was not capable of comprehensible speech at the moment. He disliked crying in front of his father. The fact that he had so little control over it was a source of almost daily reproach from the elder Snape. 

"You had better stop your crying," Lucien scolded as he lifted Severus into the air and slammed him into a wall. "Or I shall give you something to cry about and you'll have a long time to go about it." With each word, the elder Snape trust his nearly grown son into the wall. On the last syllable, he dropped Severus to the floor and raised his fist. 

"Please," Severus implored. He had only then became aware of his mother's presence in the room. As always, she had returned to try and save Severus from his father's malicious disciplinary methods. "Don't beat me, father. At least not in front of..." Severus began sobbing, "...not in front of mother." 

"LUCIEN!" Mervidith shouted, "we've Sevvie's parents! We should support him now more than ever, we can't..." 

"...have him at your breast forever!" Lucien finished. "He will have to learn to fight on his own, for we're not omnipresent beings, and won't always be there to heal him every time he's hurt." He thrust Mervidith outside and locked the door. 

Severus shielded his face and prepared for the blows to fall. 

None did. 

When Severus found the courage to raise his head sometime later, he saw Lucien returning his frightened gaze with his icy blue eyes. At first, Severus thought his mother had done something to his father, for he seemed to have been frozen in the middle of his motion. Upon closer observation, Severus noticed that the older man was trembling. Where he expected to see anger, he only saw the darkest horror. 

"Father?" Severus whispered. 

"Go back to bed, boy." Lucien replied, his voice abnormally monotonous, considering that it was coming from a person who looked as though he were being shown his worst fears repeatedly. 

"Dad?" Severus slowly rose to his feet and gazed in confusion at his father's blanched face. 

"Come on, Sevvie." Mervidith had kicked the door right off of its hinges and returned. She wrapped an arm around her son, coaxing him back to his bed. 

"What's happened to father? Something's not right about father?" Severus asked. 

"I don't know, dear boy." Mervidith looked back, and could not help but wonder why Lucien was trembling. "Best not to do anything to anger him again though. Just do as he says." 

Severus compliantly lay on his bed while Mervidith went to the cupboard and took out a clean set of blankets. "Ever since your father took that mark," Mervidith began, unfolding the blankets and covering Severus with them, "he has been very mentally unstable." 

"He wasn't always this way?" Severus asked, willingly accepting the stuffed dragon doll Mervidith placed into his arms even though he hadn't slept with a stuffed toy for the last decade or so. 

"No, not until the time he returned from that Death Eater meeting..." 

"Do not speak about that time! I do not need to be reminded!" Lucien shouted, threatening to strike the meek woman. He grabbed the back of Mervidith's robes and threw her out of the room before returning to the bodies on the floor. "If I wanted Sevvie to know about THAT I would have told him myself! Now go back to sleep! Both of you! I'll finish up with these **THINGS **myself." 

Severus lay in bed shivering. He was not physically cold, for the blankets his mother had knitted were very warm and comforting. It was the memories of the nights events as well as the sight before Severus that caused him to tremble. Lucien was seated on the floor with his back toward Severus as he continued cutting up Mr. Oduruss' corpse. The elder Snape was cutting so rapidly that flecks of bright red were jetting seemingly unnoticed on to the man's white-blonde hair. 

Just as Severus was about to fall asleep, he became aware of an unexpected sound from his father's direction. As full consciousness returned to him, Severus noticed that his father's shoulders were quivering violently. Once more he heard the sound which he identified at first as a dry heaving, but upon further observation, Severus realized that it was the sound of his father sobbing. 

"Father?" Severus whispered, lightly placing a hand on his father's quivering shoulder. 

"Go back to sleep!" Lucien shouted, shoving Severus away so hard that he fell on the blood soaked carpet.

* * *

Severus was drawn from his reverie by the feel of someone's hands on his shoulders. Upon hearing the familiar swish of his billowing black robes, he lowered his head even more. He could not face his son. He could not face Harry, for looking the boy in the eyes would cause him to long to be the father he was not sure he could ever be. 

"Father?" Harry said, squeezing the older man's shoulders gently. 

"It was never my intention to beat you." Severus stated truthfully, his eyes still firmly fixed on his own hospital pajamas clad lap. "You're still a juvenile, Harry. And as contrary, unmindful and utterly asinine as your actions last night may have been, I'll not raise my hand to you for it." 

Harry knelt onto the floor, forcing Severus to look at him. "I meant what I said last night to Professor Dumbledore. You may not believe it, because we haven't got on very well in the past, but now I really do love you, father." Severus plastered his most stoic look on his face and tried to pull away, but Harry held on gingerly but firmly. "And even when I met you in our dreams, remember when I told you that I needed my father?" 

Severus quickly ventured through the hazy shelves of his dream memories and nodded. 

"Well even though Voldemort may need his potions master," Harry smiled at the fact that saying the Dark Lord's caused no one in the room to tremble. "I still need my father." 

After years of necessity, Severus could keep his expressions impassive with nearly the same effort required of him to take a breath. This day, it was as though his proverbial breath was caught somewhere in his throat, and his stolid guise took its leave. "When we met in our dreams, you gave me your word that you'd stay did you not?" 

Harry nodded, not quite understanding. "I am going to stay..." 

"No!" Severus countered. "If you persist in foolish acts as you did last night, you will meet with your demise prematurely! Did you really think you would win against Voldemort on your own?" 

"No father, I didn't." Harry replied, realizing only then, that he would have preferred his own death over having too watch his father suffer any more as a result of Voldemort's tortures. "I just didn't want you in pain anymore. I wanted to kill him! I literally wanted to kill him with my bare hands. When Dumbledore explained to me about the Interventio Interferus potion, and how magic could hurt you, I figured that Voldemort was hurting you even more through your Dark Mark. It must have really hurt when he summoned you." 

Severus opened his mouth to respond, but Harry went on. 

"And then..." Harry closed his eyes tightly. "When you.. when you... hit... me... ACCIDENTALLY of course because I was stupid enough to try and wake you up whilst you were having a bad dream." 

"Har..." 

Harry surged onward. "And when I asked you to heal me..." The boy, who now looked like a distorted mirror image of his father, clenched his teeth before continuing. "...you did. You healed me even though you knew what it would do to you. And you... you didn't stop until I was completely healed.. Even though it really hurt you to do so." 

Severus exhaled deeply. "It was the least I could do! I punched you for Merlin's sake!" 

"But you were having a nightmare! You didn't mean to punch me!" Harry protested. "I probably deserved to lose a few teeth for trying to shake you up like that!" 

"NO ONE!" Although Severus' voice grew many decibels softer, one would swear he had been shouting. "Deserves to be hit by their parent for something like that!" Severus said as much to himself as to Harry. 

"Especially not you." Harry said, tenderly kissing Severus on the cheek in the precise spot he had seen Lucien Snape strike him many years in the past. 

Severus pulled back at the contact, yet strangely, comfort and warmth he had never felt before spread over his cheeks like a soothing elixir. 

Albus had once again walked close to the father and son, ready to intervene in case either one of them did anything physically harmful to the other. 

After a few uncomfortable minutes of silence, the words Harry had spoken so freely in his dream resonated verbatim through his mind and meandered to his lips once more: "I will never leave you again. As long as I'm living. I promise you..." Although Severus had been averting his eyes as much as possible from Harry before, Harry held his gaze so that he found himself unable to look away. "You've given up so much to do what you believed was right. You gave up your happiness with mother because you were worried that bearing the dark mark would cause you to become violent towards her, you didn't want to risk becoming to mother and me, what Lucien Snape became to Grandmother and you." 

As he did in the dream world, Severus nodded wordlessly, tears threatening 

"And you risk your very life to keep as many innocents in the wizarding world safe. Surely you understand that each mission could be your last, but you do it because you feel it is right. You want to avoid families having to suffer...as your family did." Harry, seeing his father once again battling against his own instinct not to cry and losing, pulled his father into his arms. "There is no one I am more proud of at this moment than you, father, and since you've given up so much of your own happiness for the wizarding world, I, as your son vow to give it back to you, no matter what it takes." 

Although Severus normally could not stand to be touched for any length of time, let alone hugged, he found that he could not shrink from Harry's touch. Having no option to flee or to push Harry away, he returned the embrace. 

Could he both keep Harry safe AND raise him at the same time? 

Harry did not allow Severus the option of escaping and relentlessly held onto him, even as the Pensieve resumed flashing images several feet above it.

* * *

The sight of the metal wiring in Lucius Malfoy's mouth so unnerved Draco, that the fair-haired youth sprinted from the room. "Bloody, half-witted bottom feeders!" Draco murmured as he ran. What did his father ever do to deserve such treatment from the muggles? Okay, so perhaps Lucius did some things along with the Death Eaters that could incur their ire, but what did he ever do to these particular muggles to deserve such ill treatment? 

Draco shuddered when he imagined how painful having those wires piercing his gums might be. It was an outrage! What kind of individual could be so cruel as to envision that kind of sadistic punishment? Even Lord Voldemort himself would be hard pressed to dream up anything comparable to such unsophisticated, yet so barbaric a torture method. 

"There you are!" chimed Dr. Payne from directly behind the teenaged wizard. 

"Get away from me, Dr. Pain!" Draco hissed at the young physician. 

"But where are you going?" Dr. Payne asked, his voice somewhat breathless as he fought to keep up with the frightened youth. 

"What have you done with my father?" 

"Nothing..." rasped Dr. Payne. "Your father is not my patient... but you are, and as such, I am ordering you back to your room. You're in no condition to be..." 

Draco responded by bolting down the long corridor, dodging other patients and medical staff when he could, and colliding dangerously when he couldn't avoid them. 

"Mr. MALFOY!" Nurse Asphalt joined the pursuit several paces behind Dr. Payne. 

Draco saw a strange metallic wall closing at the end of the corridor. With any luck he could get on the other side of it before it closed and escape from the two monkey medical staff members. Only magical people could make walls move like that right? Perhaps there was a mediwitch or mediwizard somewhere in the vicinity. He closed his eyes and jumped in, his only partially healed body screaming for respite. 

"No! That's the service elevator!" Dr. Payne said, stopping so abruptly that his shoes skidded a few feet on the highly polished floor. 

"I'll notify security." Nurse Asphalt walked over to the nurse's station and keyed the intercom. "With any luck, Mr. Malfoy will not make it outside."

* * *

Panicking when the room seemed to rise, Draco hit the buttons on the wall with the hope that the room would let him out again. After the "room" had risen for a bit, the doors opened and Draco charged through them as though he were running from a goblin he owed several hundred galleons to. 

This corridor was far dimmer than the one he had left earlier and exhibited far less activity. There were no nurses and doctors frantically doing their rounds, no cafeteria workers delivering meals to the sick, and no fussing families to visit the patients. There were no patient rooms along the corridor for that matter. Where had that moving room taken him? 

All of a sudden, an omnipresent voice echoed through the whole building. At first Draco assumed that it was merely a foolish muggle who had fallen into a chute or something and was calling for help, until he heard the voice giving his description as well as instructions on what to do with him once he was found. 

"If you're really everywhere, why do you need to ask other monkeys to help you?" Draco shouted to the empty corridor as the voice surrounded him like a ghost with the power of existing in more than one plane at once. 

The announcement repeated, and this time, he was passing directly beneath one of the speakers. The voice was so loud that Draco ran to escape it.

* * *

Hermione had spent the better part of the morning trying to convince the medical librarian to permit her to borrow a large stack of books. After hours of negotiation, it was agreed that Hermione would be allowed to take a few books back to her parents' office to read there, if she would return them at the end of the day. 

The bushy haired girl nodded and happily left the medical library with some books in tow. The stack was far smaller than the one she had originally intended to borrow, but it was still high enough to not allow her to see over the pile, forcing her to look around the side of the stack to navigate safely back to her parents' practice. 

She did not notice Draco running around the corner until he collided with her. 

"Watch where you're going, you filthy mudblood!" Draco yelled, pain erupting through his body as he hit the linoleum with a heavy Pharmacology text smashing into his face. 

End Part Seventeen 


	18. Remembrance

**Remembrance and Renewal**by **Nigel Tatsuya** and **Avatar Arkmage**   
Chapter Eighteen:**Remembrance...**

The Pharmacology text fell heavily into the pale Slytherin youth's lap. 

Try as he might, Draco could not force his steely grey eyes to focus properly. He felt horrible, almost as though Crabbe and/or Goyle had misjudged their aims at an adversary, and had inadvertently hammered him instead. Strike that, that was not at all how Draco felt. Perhaps it would have been better to say that Draco's head throbbed as though Crabbe and Goyle had cloned themselves, and their fathers, and the lot of them had taken a false crack at him within a span of a few seconds. 

"Mudblood...? Well, look who it is! Bouncing Ferret boy!" Hermione said haughtily when she saw Draco, tossing her unruly sennit-coloured locks back as she knelt to gather her books. "It's your own fault for running in a hospital." She paused as just as she was about to pick up a book on Medical Anthropology. "What are you doing here anyway?" 

"None of your business, you nosey parker!" Draco said, still unable to gain his bearings enough to rise from the floor. "If you'd only do something about that overgrown brown gillyweed patch on your head that you euphemistically call hair, you'd be able to see where you were going!" 

Draco wanted Hermione to be in his proximity about as much as he would have enjoyed five consecutive life sentences in Azkaban, and that would be if he were held in a cell next to a torture chamber staffed by very bored inquisitors. In other words, he wanted Hermione to be anywhere but right before him at the moment, and actively facilitated her departure by helping' her pick up her heavy tomes. 

"Malfoy!" Hermione screeched as Draco flung a particularly heavy Physician's Desk Reference into her arms. "If you throw another book at me..." 

"What's this one about?" Draco sneered, picking up a book with a particularly attractive leather bound cover. In gold letters were stamped the words Full Colour Atlas of Gynecological Physiology and Morphology.' 

"MALFOY! Give that back!" Hermione's urgency to retrieve that particular book, only piqued Draco's interest further. 

Before Hermione could stop him, Draco opened the large volume to a random page. His eyes appeared to nearly pop out of his head, and his cheeks relinquished what little colour they possessed as he perused the subsequent pages. 

"Ferret-Boy, I want that back immediately!" 

Draco's initial reaction of extreme shock quickly transformed into one of acute interest. Although the pictures in the book were completely motionless and silent, the true to life coloured photographs were more than adequate compensation. Draco found it all too easy to ignore Hermione's querulous voice as he continued turning the pages. 

Hermione finally yanked the book from Draco's hands. The pale boy lunged after it, but his battered and fatigued body was no match for the Gryffindor's otherwise healthy one. 

"Well! I hope you've enjoyed yourself..!" Hermione said with a scowl. 

"I always thought you were an odd one, Granger!" Malfoy said, smoothing the lower part of his hospital gowns as he stood with the assistance of a handrail along the wall. 

"What are you talking about!" Hermione's cheeks coloured. 

"I've wondered why you don't seem to have any close female friends, Granger! No one's ever seen you about with other girls. Must be why you're always following Potthead and Weasel about like a stinking hound!" Draco moved closer to better appreciate the rutilus tones, now extending all the way to Hermione's ears. "Gonna share those dirty mudblood women books with them? Bet the three of you get your excitement from looking at girls from afar, since no real girls would find any of you remotely interesting..." 

Hermione silenced Draco by swatting him in the head with the book in question, before grumpily storming off. Draco, who was once more on the cold, tiled floor, sat up and sneered after her. 

A few moments later, the footfalls of several individuals echoed throughout the hall. "Draco!" Dr. Payne called, sighing heavily in relief. "There you are! You're in no condition of be out of your room yet. Where on Earth have you been?" 

"How did you find me, Dr. Pain?" Draco asked, attempting to keep the apprehension out of his voice. 

"One of your school mates came and alerted us to where you were, Dr. and Dr. Granger's daughter, she was, I believe." Dr. Payne replied, looking sympathetic as a couple of orderlies gently helped Draco into a wheelchair. 

Draco longed to explain that he would prefer a cobra to Hermione for a mate, but decided to not risk angering these muggles. Any of them might be close friends with Hermione or her family, after all. 

"Oh my!" Dr. Payne gasped as he gingerly examined the darkening bruise just under Draco's eye. "How did this happen?" 

Being so taken aback, Draco could not conjure a better explanation. He certainly did not want to admit to being struck by Hermione for looking at a book with such graphic pictures in them. "Er... I must have run into something..." 

"Into someone's fist by the look of it." Dr. Payne supplied, before alerting security to the possibility of hooligans infiltrating the hospital itself. "Let's get you safely back to your room." 

Draco sighed to himself. What started out as an interesting excursion into a world he hadn't experienced before, was turning out to be as unpleasant as his pureblooded wizard friends said being among savage muggles would be.

* * *

The images continued to play above the semi-liquid surface of the Pensieve as Severus, Albus and Harry looked on. Harry sat in the comfortable armchair next to Severus, watching his own memories of the previous night play like the scenes from some macabre movie. 

Harry was still surprised at just how liberating it was to place a memory, he would otherwise have had difficulty talking about, into the Pensieve. Whereas he would have been both ashamed and seething with anger if he were to tell about his latest confrontation with Lord Voldemort, sharing the events in this fashion lent Harry a feeling of both excitement and freedom, as though the memories were not his at all. 

Severus' eyes widened when both the living and ghostly images of his mother slowly revolved out of the semi-liquid surface. He had not heard his mother's voice in nearly seventeen years... not since the night she had begged him to refuse the Dark Mark. Not since the night she was tortured into insanity. 

He fumed at what the Dark Lord had attempted to do to his mother and was glad that Harry had been there to prevent it. The Dark Lord often used what he knew would hurt one the most, and if he could not find a weakness to exploit, he would harm one's loved ones or family. A method of attack which unfortunately would still work on Severus...and Harry. 

No matter the means, Severus could not find it in himself to punish Harry for stealing his arm and the Polyjuice IV, and attacking the Dark Lord. At least he could think of nothing suitable to do to Harry at this moment. Could he punish the boy for saving his Grandmother from one of the most evil wizards in alive today? Sure the boy stole, he lied, and he risked his life... 

...But he did it for the only surviving family members the poor boy had... 

How could Severus fault him for it? And if the situations had been reversed, even he in his youthful foolishness might have attempted something similar. 

Severus only half-listened to the remainder of the conversation between the boy and his grandmother. He paid about the same amount of attention to the subsequent conversation between the shape-changed Harry and Draco Malfoy, who seemed very apprehensive at the prospect of spending any length of time among the muggles. 

His own inner voice fought for the wounded wizard's attentions. "Lucien Snape was not your only parent." the inner voice stated repeatedly, in varying intonations and phraseologies. "You've learned other ways to nurture..." 

The pain from his injuries throbbing dully now, Severus lowered his head and studied his remaining hand as it lay almost forlorn, as though looking for its partner in his lap. 

"What if you're not a parent like Lucien Snape?" the voice asked Severus again. 

The images over the Pensieve finally ceased, like a film frozen on a single frame. Evidently, Harry had been longing after his Grandmother for quite some time after returning to Hogwarts, for over the Pensieve, the image of the ghostly Mervidith Snape remained. Her transparent form faced Severus directly. 

Her night-sky coloured eyes seemed to be fixed on the identically coloured eyes of her son. "What if you are not at all like Lucien as a parent..." Severus' inner voice asked for the final time, "...but like Mervidith?" 

Severus' musings were halted by the sound of Harry's returning to the Pensieve and placing another silvery strand into the bowl. After a tap of Harry's wand, Mervidith's gentle face vanished and was replaced by the incensed face of Vernon Dursley. 

If the neckless man had spoken loudly to Harry in the past, the Pensieve amplified his voice until it was deafening now. "You and your parents are freaks!" Vernon's voice bounced off the many walls of the room and fell hard on the souls of Albus and Severus. "THERE IS NO SUCH THING AS MAGIC!" 

When the image of Vernon began to drag a much younger Harry Potter to the door of what appeared to be a cupboard, Severus' eyes widened in horror. He had seen bits and pieces of the visions like these in Harry's mind during the Occlumency lessons he had been ordered to give to Harry in the previous school year. Severus had in fact been shocked by what little he had been able to see during that time, and though he hadn't let Harry know his true reaction, he had in fact informed the other members in the Order of the Phoenix that they needed to intervene on the boy's behalf. Severus was dismayed to watch the scene in its entirety now. 

"Noooooo!" screamed the young, painfully malnourished child. "Please no no no! Uncle Vernon, don't lock me in there again!" 

"What's the matter?" mocked a much better fed boy around the same age. "Scared of the dark, cousin?" 

"Yes!" little Harry wailed, tears coursing from his green eyes. "The light won't go on!" 

"We'll give you a new light globe when you learn to follow rules!" Aunt Petunia put her head out of the kitchen and shouted. 

The portly man lobbed the young boy into the cupboard and locked the door, almost seeming to take pleasure in the terrified child's shrieks, and his own son's laughter. 

Severus rose out of his chair and hobbled to the Pensieve with a look of the purest loathing on his face. Harry watched as his father reached toward the image of the cupboard door, as if to tear it from its hinges. His arm returned to his side when he realized that these were only memories and that there was nothing he could do to intervene on his angel's behalf. 

Although Harry had never been one to share many details about his life with anyone, he found that he was almost powerless to stop himself now. He wanted to do this... No, he had to do this. For one, he wanted to show Headmaster Albus Dumbledore exactly what his good intentions had wrought. Harry's life had been only a little preferable to the proverbial Hell of some people's beliefs. Just as Dumbledore had earned Harry's ire in the previous school year by choosing to keep Harry in the dark and hidden, rather than informing him of the true dangers ahead, so he would learn why he earned it again this time...for depriving him of a happier life. A life he might have been able to spend with his only living relatives. And this was all because Dumbledore didn't want Harry to grow up being famous'? If the Headmaster had only investigated sooner, perhaps protective wards could be set up using his father's blood. 

Harry also wanted Severus to see these memories fully, rather than only in flashes. No doubt it was because of Dumbledore's reasoning that Severus initially seemed to think that Harry was a celebrity' even the muggle world and had mistreated him in the start. He also wanted Severus to know more about his own past since he had silently witnessed chunks of Severus' past during his journey outside of time. 

As he removed each subsequent strand from his mind, Harry felt as though a heavy burden were being removed from his back, and his heart as well. 

Albus paled as he watched the image of a toddler being forced to carry a basket full of dirty laundry down the steep stairwell to the laundry room in the Dursley's house. The toddler could hardly sustain the weight of the filled basket, which in all likelihood weighed about as much as the boy, if not more. 

When the youth finally fell, he received no assistance, or even an ice pack for his resultant bruises. All he received was a harsh word and a threat of receiving no supper that night if he was caught slacking again. 

The next memory showed Harry as an older boy, meticulously dusting furniture in the Dursley's living room while the Dursleys were outside teaching Dudley to ride his new bicycle. Harry put the dusting rag on the table and gazed in wonder at Dudley's Nintendo on the floor in front of the telly. He had watched Dudley play it time and again before, but Harry had never been allowed to play it even once. 

After looking out the window and seeing Uncle Vernon giving Dudley another push on the bicycle, Harry crept over to the console and turned it and the telly on. He understood immediately why his cousin found the entertainment system so amusing, and lost track of time as he directed Luigi through the Mushroom Kingdom. When he directed Luigi to play the magic flute, he heard the door to the living area open and a shrill screech issued from Petunia Dursley. 

At this point, the nearly adult Harry turned away from the Pensieve, and the reason was apparent to both Albus and Severus right away. Uncle Vernon, who they had quickly come to learn believed fully in the expiation of rule breaking, especially Harry's, spanked, or more accurately, caned Harry as Petunia and Dudley looked on. When Harry later asked Aunt Petunia for some bandages for his open cuts, she turned away from him in disgust. Before the six year-old Harry's tears even had a chance to dry, Dudley had his friends over and they all engaged in several rounds of Harry hunting. 

Severus had still not returned to his seat. His legs were frozen to the spot on the floor directly in front of Dumbledore's desk. Each time a new image appeared, Severus' remaining hand rose, as though yearning to rescue the boy from the horrid ordeal which was apparently his early childhood. 

Harry placed several more strands into the Pensieve, and felt better and better as each thought left his mind. He chose to equate sharing these memories with vomiting. They were like putrefying matter in his gut, which had to either be expelled or allowed to rot further until it resulted in his illness or death. Harry chose the former option. 

Severus found that he could not turn away from the images the Pensieve projected above it, no matter how awful. When the image of a toddler Harry rocking back and forth in the darkened cupboard materialized, Severus dropped to his knees. The baby wore a nappy that evidently hadn't been changed for days, and when Aunt Petunia finally decided to change him, both Albus and Severus nearly wretched when they saw how bad the child's diaper rash was. The entire area was reddened, and the child's foreskin was badly inflamed. 

Severus lost every vestige of colour in his face when he realized that this was probably one of Harry's first memories. The boy apparently had little to no memories of Lily and James, therefore, he in all likelihood had no memory of a parent's love. 

Not even Severus had been entirely deprived of that. 

The potion master made to go to Harry's side, but stopped abruptly when the boy, who still looked like the distorted reflection of Severus, curled up in a ball and started to scream. 

"Harry!" Albus Dumbledore came out from behind his desk and joined Severus at Harry's side. The teen writhed on the floor, and screamed as though he were being gored from the inside outward. 

Initially, the two older men feared that Harry had gone insane. Having memories, particularly traumatic ones, suppressed for years suddenly brought to the forefront could very well be more than a youth could bear. 

Severus noticed that Harry's sallow skin was beginning to colour again. "The Polyjuice IV...it's wearing off at last." 

Harry continued to flail and cry out in the same manner as one who had been subjected to the cruciatus curse. 

"Severus, does the Polyjuice IV potion normally cause its drinker this much distress when it wears off?" 

"I cannot answer with any degree of certainty," Severus said, desperately wanting to do anything to help his son. "I've been developing the potion for months, and it hasn't been tested on humans yet." 

Harry screamed shrilly. 

Severus went on in an unruffled demeanor. "Because of the body's rapid metabolization of the Antipodean Citrine-eyed dragon albumin, it makes the potion somewhat unstable. Tissues like a person's irises would still change back within an hour, as with the original Polyjuice. " He turned toward Harry. "I wasn't even sure it was ready for testing yet, you... you... BOY!" 

"How does the Polyjuice IV differ from the original?" Albus said, cradling Harry's head in his arms. 

"Aside from it requiring the addition of the desired person's blood, instead of just a hair, the Polyjuice IV is a compound action potion. The potion first causes the initial change, then uses the drinker's own magical essence to uphold that change for many hours on end. The more endurance the wizard or witch has, the longer the potion will last. In theory, this would allow one to remain in another person's form for several days, even a week if the person's will is strong enough." Severus wanted to touch the boy to better examine the effects of the potion, but the Interventio Interferous potion in his own blood prevented it. "Because it saps such a great quantity of the person's magical essence, it could cause the drinker who uses the potion too much or too often to age prematurely, so the second stage, a mild de-aging potion, releases when the first potion's effects wear off." 

Albus looked at Harry gravely. 

"Yes, I never intended for the Polyjuice IV to be utilized by people who weren't fully grown!" Severus chided Harry. "I added no extra ingredients to quell the pain of actually SHRINKING tissues." 

"How potent is the de-aging potion, Severus?" 

"It is very mild, theoretically it would only take a year or two off the drinker, depending on how long the drinker held onto the changed form." Severus said, starting to panic when he saw Harry, who no longer resembled Severus, begin to shrink to his original size. "Naturally, one would not use the Polyjuice IV if it was that person's first experience with the Polyjuice type of potion." 

"This...is... agh!" Harry moaned, his bones and tissues hurting badly. "...is not... my first experience with the Polyjuice Potions.." 

"WHAT!" Severus shouted. 

"Had...the original...in my second year." Harry winced as he continued to shrink. 

"Still... even if you wanted to try Polyjuice potions even now, I would not have allowed it, and I certainly would not give you the Polyjuice IV!" Severus said, more gently than he normally would have in the situation. Harry was evidently in so much pain that Severus could not find it in himself to add to it by chewing the boy out as well. "I don't know what this will do to you, and I am unable brew anything for you that could help..." 

Severus was interrupted by another shrill scream from Harry; a scream that could only have come from a boy whose voice had not yet dropped. 

"The effects can be reversed?" Albus asked, as he watched Harry rapidly grow too tiny for both Severus' robes and for his own glasses. 

"Of course!" Severus replied. "A simple adjusted dose of an aging potion would restore him to his original self..." 

"No! You can't use your magic!" Harry cried in a distinct child's voice now. 

"I **KNOW that** you infernal... boy!" Severus shouted. He could have kicked himself for not keeping any aging potions on hand, and frowned when he realized that no apothecary would carry such a potion in their stocks, after all, how well would an aging potion sell? "Besides, I'd have to brew the potion precisely for him since he is an adolescent." 

"YOU CAN'T!" Harry said, his voice much higher now. 

"I am aware of that!" Severus yelled back. 

"So we will have to wait until the Interventio Interferous works its way out of your system then?" Albus said. 

Severus nodded gravely, wondering if Harry would stop shrinking before he reached the stature of a toddler. Fortunately, he did. 

"Hey!" Harry, who now was about the size of a six year old, said with a big smile spreading across his face. 

Both Severus and Albus gave him their undivided attention. 

"It doesn't hurt anymore! I'm not sore!" Harry replied, his grin even wider now. 

"Well ACCOLADES to you!" Severus said sarcastically, still obviously rankled by his son's actions, but secretly relieved that Harry hadn't shrunk into an atom. 

Harry rose slowly to his now tiny feet, Severus' greatly oversized clothes making the task more difficult. The boy could barely look over the top of Headmaster Dumbledore's desk now, and he had to stand on his toes to look at Fawkes who was trilling with apparent amusement from his perch on the edge of the desk. 

Albus quickly set to the task of adjusting the size of the boy's clothing. When he finished, Harry looked like a miniature Severus Snape. 

"Oh my!" Harry gasped, looking at the size of his hands then feeling his face. "I'm a little kid again." 

"Yes Harry, you are indeed." The Headmaster said, patting the top of Harry's head. 

Harry undid his trousers and looked inside his underwear. He gasped in horror at the meagre contents within. 

Severus rolled his eyes. "No, I don't imagine you've gone through puberty yet. You should not expect...much." 

Albus looked on with amusement. "Severus, how changed is he truly?" 

"Not much unfortunately." Severus said, standing next to his now tiny son. "He's still the same mischief-maker he was a few minutes ago, he only possesses a smaller body now." 

"So does that mean he has all of the memories his older self had?" 

"Yes," Severus replied, watching as the boy began playing with one of the shiny trinkets on the Headmaster's desk. "But now he has a child's brain with which to process his memories and new experiences." 

The Headmaster nodded knowingly, and gently placed the Pensieve back into its cupboard with Harry's memories still swirling in it. Knowing that the boy would remember everything he placed in there anyway, there was no immediate need to return the feelings attached to those memories as well. The boy would have a hard enough time adjusting to being a child again without the burden of memories he could not adequately process. 

The boy paused and looked at two older men again. "You're mad at me, right?" 

Albus and Severus simultaneously answered in the negative and the affirmative respectively. 

At the sight of tears appearing in his bright green eyes, which reminded Severus even more of Lily's at the moment, Severus knelt beside his son. Harry jumped back as though expecting to be struck. "I'm sorry, father! I'm sorry for stealing Polyjuice IV and fighting with Moldyshorts, I was bad." Harry started whimpering so much that he had to pause before he continued. "You want me to go into my cupboard now?" 

"No!" Severus said, shocked that the boy would even think that. 

"You're going to spank me?" little Harry said, trembling so much that he looked as though he would lose his balance at any moment. 

The image of Lucien appeared in the forefront of Severus' mind once more, but he willingly pushed it aside, the image of Mervidith appearing in its wake. He shook his head, "No Harry, I have no intention of spanking you." 

"You want to scold me then?" Harry asked, putting both hands on his father's shoulders and moving to within inches of his face. "You're going to make me do extra hard chores around the labs?" 

Severus didn't answer initially, but nodded when he realized the boy wouldn't remove his green gaze from him until he did. "Yes, I'll give you a lecture, and then I'll give you chores to do if that's what you think you deserve." 

"Oh father, I love you so much!" The child Harry threw his arms around Severus' neck and hugged him with surprising strength for one so small. He momentarily covered his mouth, as though he were surprised at what he had just said. Then he sighed, and gave in to these unfamiliar emotions. Children had less control over their actions after all. "I'm so happy you're my father, father. You're the best father in the whole world..." 

"Wha-what?" Severus stammered out, looking thoroughly stunned. 

Albus returned to his desk and watched the scene before him unfold with amusement. Harry held onto Severus for a long time, and seemed impervious to the older man's struggles to free himself from the boy's grip after a few minutes had elapsed. 

It wasn't until Harry's hands started to glow faintly that Albus ran out from behind his desk. "Harry! No...!" 

Caught completely off guard, Severus cried out as shards of undiluted agony suddenly cut through his flesh and lodged deep within his bones. His internal organs were not spared the ferocity of this latest onslaught, and even his heart struggled to continue its task normally, compensating for the new, uncontrolled spasms afflicting it. 

In normal circumstances, Severus could usually endure insurmountable measures of pain without allowing many vocalizations betraying that agony to escape him. Today, in full view of Albus Dumbledore and Harry Potter, he lost every fragment of that control. 

"Father!" The child Harry screamed. "What's happening? Why is it hurting?" The child instinctively tightened his grip on his suffering father, his added concentration causing his hands to glow even brighter. 

Severus tried begging to be released, but only managed an incomprehensible aggregate of alternating shrieks and screams. He thrashed within his son's surprisingly powerful hold, his long, ebony hair flailing about his shoulders. The soreness so thoroughly traversed his body, that even Severus' hair follicles stung and seared. 

"Harry!" Headmaster Dumbledore shouted. "Release your father immediately!" 

But between Harry's anguished wailing, and Severus's cries, neither of them could hear. "I'm so sorry, father! I'm so sorry!" Harry repeated over and over, watching in horror as Severus' screams weakened, becoming a sickening, laboured gurgling. 

Blood bubbled at the corners of Severus's mouth, and from his nose, and increased in volume each time the wizard exhaled. His lungs, along with much of his other vital organs, had been compromised. He gagged and choked, and his breathing became more and more raspy. Soon, Severus exhaled equal quantities of blood and carbon dioxide with every laboured breath. 

Harry and Albus watched helplessly as Severus grew inexorably more sallow in the eternity which spanned only a few minutes. His voice gave out even as the excruciating pain continued unabated. Deep, scarlet stains began to appear through the fabric of Severus' light coloured hospital gowns, only hinting at the grievous wounds concealed beneath. Tears streamed from his obsidian eyes. The fear within them deepened exponentially. 

Albus approached the father and son, but could offer little if any assistance. Theoretically, any magic he might attempt to disengage Harry, could potentially be the little required to effectively kill Severus. If he were to physically pull Harry away, that could cause the boy to panic and send even more potentially fatal magic into his father's body. 

That left only one option: "HARRY!"" Albus yelled right next to the boy's face. "Take your hands off of your father NOW!" 

But it was too late. When little Harry reluctantly loosened his grip on Severus, the dark haired man pitched backwards and hit the floor lifelessly. Harry backed away from his motionless father wailing in a cadence that indicated that he was suffering immense pain, but whether it was of the emotional or of the physical variety, or a combination of both, not even Albus could tell for sure. 

The aged Headmaster sprinted to the fireplace and called Madam Pomfrey. 

"Father?" the little boy crawled to Severus's side and removed his child-sized frock coat and white shirt, revealing dark bruising on virtually every area of exposed skin. Harry had not come away from the evening's bizarre events unharmed. He placed the discarded garments on his father's shivering body. "You okay?" 

Tears still streamed from Severus' eyes, and his breathing grew even more shallow and grating. Harry gasped when he saw how extremely unfocused the man's dark eyes were, and the pupils were dilated to the point that virtually none of the iris remained. "I think...so..." 

"Father!" Harry whimpered, frantically running his hands over his sire's face and neck. "Your skin is so hot!" 

"Where is... Lils-Lily?" Severus panted, his eyes so unfocused now, Harry guessed his father might no longer be able to see. 

"You mean Mummy?" Harry whimpered, stroking his father's silky hair. "She... died a long time ago." 

Severus squeezed his eyes closed and sobbed, more tears coursing from beneath his lids. "Oh no! Not Lils too! No! First I all but kill our little child's chance at life... and now Lils is... is!" 

Little Harry steeled his face. He had to be strong for father now, even if father didn't seem to understand much about where they were or what was really happening. "Don't cry, Daddy. I'm here." 

Severus' eyes opened wide, his gazed focussed once more. "Preborn Angel? GREAT MERLIN! But... but how?" 

"Father's remembering some other place isn't he?" Harry asked Albus, who nodded gravely, knowing that Severus' body would soon be joining his mind in that other place.' 

"Angel..." Severus wheezed, his voice almost non-existent. "Thank you for coming back. You've come..." Severus' eyes became unfocused once more. "...to take me with you... To the place I've condemned you...father will join you now.." 

Harry finally understood. "NOOOOOOOOOO! You can't die! I won't let you die!" Young Harry slapped his father across his bloodstained face when his eyes closed again. Severus appeared to have experienced no pain from it, but if he did, he did not react. "Don't go to sleep, because you'll never wake up again. You're not allowed to die! YOU'RE NOT ALLOWED! Do you hear me? You don't have Headmaster Dumbledore's permission!" Harry paused to sniffle. "AND YOU DON'T HAVE MINE!" 

"It's...Morning..." Severus opened his eyes and tried to focus once more. The ambient luminosity in the room had, in fact, steadily decreased since the sun had set. "Look at that, my angel son... it's a clear morning...full, bright sunlight..." 

Harry threw his arms over his father's chest and sobbed. It was night, not morning. The sun had already set, how could it be up in the sky again so soon? What was father talking about? He was looking at the ceiling, not the sky. And the sky was dark besides. 

"But we will cause... irreparable damage to our eyes...if we continue staring at the sun. Look away...boy." Severus said, his voice weaker, yet more fatherly than either Harry or Albus had ever heard it before. "It is...too bright..." Severus' eyes slipped closed. Strangely, the glimmering sunlight remained. In fact, it grew steadily brighter. 

"FATHER!" the boy screamed, shaking the potions master frenetically. "FATHER! DON'T YOU DARE DIE! DON'T YOU DARE!" Harry emphasized his last syllable with an openhanded strike to his father's bloodstained left cheek. "YOU ARE NOT ALLOWED!" 

Severus found that he was unable to comply with his son's command. The boy's overwrought shouting morphed into something resembling the beautiful trills of a phoenix. The slap to his face hurt about as much as a feather lightly brushing his ashen cheek would. His head gently lulled to the side. Severus exhaled one final time, just as the faint smile that had appeared when he first saw his angel again faded from his face. 

"NOOOOOOOOOOOO!" screamed Harry, shaking his sire frantically. "I wanted to help make you better! NOT MAKE YOU DIE!" 

Albus put his fingers over the younger man's heart and found it still. Tears rolled down the elderly headmaster's face when he placed a hand under the potions master's nose and felt not even the faintest sign of expiration. 

Severus Snape, Potions Master of Hogwarts, Former Death Eater turned Spy for the Light, Member of the Order of the Phoenix, beloved pseudo-son and father had died. 

End Part Eighteen 


	19. Renewal

**Remembrance and Renewal** by **Avatar Arkmage** and **Nigel Tatsuya**  
Chapter Nineteen: **Renewal**

"Now Draco," Dr. Payne said, replacing the blankets on Draco's body. "You should be fine, you haven't suffered any ill effects from running off like that. Now drink your smoothie and..." 

Draco fought to restrain himself from sneering at the young physician, but the muggle did not miss even the smallest gesture. His eyes had been trained to be very perceptive in that way. He had encountered all too many patients who downplayed their suffering. "...What's wrong?" 

"Why were they torturing my father?" the pale boy fought to keep his tone polite, but he knew his eyes were starting to betray their contempt for the muggles. 

"Torturing!" Dr Payne stepped back literally at that. 

"They sewed his mouth with metal wires, Dr PAIN!" Draco replied, his tone fully disdainful now. "Why did your people do that? Why are they trying to make my father suffer? You don't want him telling anyone that your friends are hurting him? You plan to serve him all the good food this hospital has and then you'll tease him because he can't eat any of it?" 

"Your people?' You're different from the rest of us in some way?" Dr. Payne fell, rather than sat, in the chair next to Draco's bed. "Draco, we would never intentionally torture anyone. We chose this line of work because we enjoying helping, not hurting people." 

"Why does my dad's jaw have wires in it, then?" Draco asked, crossing his arms over his chest. 

"The reason I imagine that your father's mouth is wired is because his jaw was broken wasn't it?" Dr. Pain reasoned, remembering the police report on how this boy's unfortunate family had been caught in an ugly hooligan fight at a football game. 

"In more than one place!" Draco replied, his anger now transferring back to the Dark Lord and his minions. 

"Well, that explains it then. When a patient's jaw is broken, we have to secure it so that it heals properly. " The doctor explained, drawing crude diagrams on his notepad. "If we do not, it may not heal correctly aligned, and your father will have trouble chewing, or even talking." 

"Trouble chewing?" Draco asked, starting to become intrigued once more by the methods non-magical people employed to do things witches and wizards could do with relative ease. 

"Yes, your father's bite could end up crooked." Dr Payne explained, drawing another crude diagram. "That could cause anything from discomfort in his face when he chews, or it could cause him to damage his teeth or the inside of his mouth itself. So it has to heal aligned." 

"So what are you feeding him since he can't chew right now?" 

"You're such a wonderful boy, caring so much about your father." Dr. Payne said, putting the smoothie in the boy's hand. "He can't have solid food yet, so we give him his nutrients in the form of meal replacement drinks or in smoothies. Speaking of which, you'd better drink yours, the ice will start melting." 

Draco sniffed the contents of the cup, wondering if muggles were really devious enough to drug patients to make them more compliant. The sweet and fruity smell was so enticing that he started sipping right away. 

"I have other patients to see, but I'll be back later." Dr. Payne said as he started for the door. "By the way, are you going to tell me how you got that black eye?" 

"Bloody Granger..." Draco muttered while sucking on the straw. 

"What was that?" 

"Uh... uh...I said a bloody stranger." Draco replied, enjoying his honeydew melon smoothie. "And no, I don't want to talk about it." 

"Very well then..." Dr. Payne departed.

* * *

Madam Pomfrey and Dr. Chang fell out of Dumbledore's fireplace, looking like they had both attempted to go through the floo at the same time. Neither of them made to rise off the floor of the Headmaster's office and crawled directly toward the unmoving potions master, and the shrunken, battered Harry. 

"Good Heavens!" Madam Pomfrey fretted at the sight of the bruising all over the child Harry's skin. "What's happened?" 

"He's dead." Dr. Chang sniffled after a hasty examination of Severus. 

"What? No! How did all this happen?" Madam Pomfrey demanded, taking a handkerchief out of her robes and dabbing at her eyes with it, before throwing off the tiny garments on Severus' chest and tearing open his gowns and assessing the damage. "Did Severus attempt to do magic again?" 

Albus Dumbledore took the sobbing Harry into his arms and returned to his large chair. Without a ghost of the twinkle that normally graced his blue eyes, he recounted what had transpired just moments before Severus's unexpected death. 

"And how about you? Are you feeling okay Harry?" Dr. Chang asked, as she examined the youth whilst he huddled against the headmaster's beard. 

"NO!" Harry cried so loudly that Fawkes was startled off of his perch. "I feel...I feel sad!" 

"That's understandable." Dr. Chang swallowed hard. "I meant to ask if you're in pain." 

"No, it doesn't hurt very much." Harry replied, motioning to the extensive bruising on his torso. "I'm used to being bruised like this." 

Dr. Chang shivered at that. Had Harry Potter been hurt so often in his childhood that this kind of thing no longer bothered him? She looked into his reddened green eyes, and saw the same expression she had observed so many times during her stint in a muggle hospital. The boy had been abused. 

Madam Pomfrey displayed a complete lack of professionalism as she catalogued the fatal injuries on her long time friend and most difficult patient's body. She sobbed as she went about her task, alternating between words of sympathy and words of objurgation at the life the man had chosen to live. 

The red and gold Phoenix hopped across the floor and perched on Madam Pomfrey's lap. Fawkes trilled softly as the grieving woman patted his red head. "Sorry Fawkes, but we can do nothing for him now. Even if we try, the Interventio Interferous potion in his blood would just mutilate his body more." The nurse gingerly traced a large fissure across Severus' abdomen with her supple fingers. The damage had occurred from the inside outward, and the contents of the man's abdomen could be seen down its centre. 

Fawkes hopped off of Madam Pomfrey's lap and onto an unblemished area just below Severus' navel. He lowered his head over the deepest portion of the fissure and started to cry. The pearlescent phoenix tears fell directly into the wound. 

"Thank you for you compassion, Fawkes." Albus lamented to the brilliant red and gold avian. "But I fear you will not be able to help Severus..." 

"Albus, Harry, Ayame!" Poppy interrupted, her voice filled with a jubilance that appeared very displaced. "Look!" 

Instead of violently reacting to the magical factors in the phoenix tears, Severus' torn flesh accepted the healing compound willingly, and mended itself rapidly where the precious fluid had been absorbed. Ayame, Albus and Poppy charged into action and went to assist the magnificent avian. 

"How is this possible?" Ayame asked as she attached a portable monitor to the man's chest and began repairing the damage to Severus' heart and lungs. 

"It would appear that Harry removed the Interventio Interferous potion from Severus' body." Albus said. 

"So where did he put it?" Madam Pomfrey asked as she held her wand over one of Severus's more severe wounds. 

Ayame shrugged in response, and closely adjusted and regulated each organ as it was repaired and their functions restored, while Albus lifted the additional strain from Severus' now furiously beating heart as the two witches worked. 

"OW! Owee! My hand, my hand!" Harry exclaimed as he tried to close a cut on Severus' leg. The tip of his fingers tore themselves open on protest at Harry's use of magic. "I only wanted to help!" 

"Harry, you have already done more than your share." Albus said, wrapping the boy's fingers in a clean cloth and applying pressure to halt the bleeding. "We are all grateful to you." 

"Does this mean I can't use my magic any more?" 

Albus was about to respond, but he was interrupted by the sound of a determined, forceful gasp followed by a series of hard coughs and more raspy inhalations. To all present, the sound was like the first warm breeze playing along the undersides of the first leaves of spring after a harsh Winter that had lasted for far too long. 

To everyone's surprise, Harry bolted from the room, and returned shortly thereafter with several bottles of potions in his arms. 

"Father!" He shouted, kneeling and pulling his sire's head onto his tiny lap. 

"Harry?" Severus asked, his obsidian eyes still unable to focus properly. 

"We made these the other day, remember?" Harry said, taking Severus' trembling hand and placing one on the phials in it. 

"Yes..." Severus whispered, his voice still weak as the witches continued spelling away the blood spilled throughout his chest cavity and repairing his lungs. 

"We made these because we wanted to make hurt people better again." Harry said, taking the vial back and unstoppering it. "I want to make you all better again." 

"Just a moment, Harry." Dr. Chang forestalled him. "We have to make sure his digestive tract can take it first." The mediwitch moved the scanning equipment lower. 

Harry nervously stroked the sides of Severus' face as the man's head still rested in the boy's lap. Dr. Chang moved her hands down to Severus' abdomen and muttered a series of incantations and made a few deft motions with what looked like a steel wand. Severus was about to tell Harry how annoyed he was becoming, and would reprimand Harry most harshly if he didn't stop stroking his face, when Dr. Chang nodded. Severus could be given the potion. 

Severus almost choked. Harry, in his now appropriately childlike enthusiasm, had poured the whole vial of soft tissue healing potion down Severus' throat faster than he could swallow, causing the horrible taste of the potion to completely fill his mouth beforehand. 

"BLECH!" Severus gagged. He was about to launch into an angry tirade, but found that he was not aggravated enough to do it convincingly. For the first time in roughly a fortnight, he could breathe without pain, and soon he could move about without each step being pure torture. Best of all, he could probably use his magics once more and work in his beloved potions lab again unfettered. 

From just above his face, he heard little Harry's innocent laughter at his reaction to the potion's bitter taste. Oddly, it didn't bother him as much as it should. Child Harry's laughter was somehow...pleasant, even wondrous... 

"Aww!" Harry asked, leaning over and kissing his father on the forehead before he realised what he was doing and pulled back abruptly. "It tastes bad?" 

"Like the residue from the bottom of a dirty caldron left to ferment for a month!" Severus replied, his voice stronger as the pain in his chest began to subside. 

"EWWWW!" Harry made a face so cute that even Albus, Ayame and Poppy had to laugh. "Why do you taste the stuff from the bottom of your caldron anyway?" 

"Who said I engaged in such an activity?" Severus asked, his dark eyes wide. 

"You did! You said the potion tastes like the icky stuff from the bottom of a dirty caldron left rotten for a month.'" Harry replied in all seriousness.

* * *

When Severus could safely be moved again, father and son returned to the infirmary. With the exception of the bruising and lacerations which had occurred when Harry removed the potion from Severus' body and his shortened stature, Harry was fine and would require only a day or two of hospitalisation. 

"So how long do I have to stay a little kid?" Harry asked Madam Pomfrey after she gave him a lollipop. 

"Now that you have the Interventio Interferous potion in your body," she paused briefly to adore the sight of young Harry sucking on the confection. "You won't be able to take the counterpotion until it works its way out of your system." 

"What if the potion never leaves my body!" Harry said, the sweet inhibiting his speech somewhat. 

"Then you can grow up all over again. " 

"What!" 

"Your father never intended for the Polyjuice IV to be used by a teenager, " Madam Pomfrey replied, putting the some of the equipment away. "Who knows how long it will take for Interventio Interferous to work its way out of such a small body?" 

"WAAAAAAH!" Harry bawled, deftly holding the sweet in the side of his mouth as he did so. 

"Ohh," Madam Pomfrey said, wrapping an arm around the frightened child. "It will eventually work its way out, but we really don't know how long it will take. You'll have to stay as a child for about two weeks, maybe three." 

"Or forever!" Harry sniffled.

* * *

Severus would have needed at least several days of intensive medical attention. But he would not hear of it... 

"Can you feel this?" Dr. Chang said as she gently waved her wand over the tips of Severus' fingers on his re-attached arm. 

"Yes," Severus was too happy at having his left arm reattached to make a snide remark worthy of him. "With the exception of a little sensitivity in my elbow, it feels fine." 

"It will hurt considerably for the next few days." Dr. Chang said, moving her wand up and down his left arm, cringing when she passed over the Dark Mark. "You can either take a potion for the pain, or you may continue on the muggle painkillers..." 

"Never again!" Severus sneered, remembering the horrible nightmares which resurfaced shortly after he had started taking muggle drugs. 

"Well," Dr. Chang rolled his sleeve back down. "Let me know if it gives you any problems. Rest if for the next few days. No heavy lifting, and no over-exerting ...SEVERUS!" 

The potions master had tossed off his hospital gowns and was in the process of retrieving his everyday clothes from one of the nearby cupboards. Severus quickly selected a set of clothes Albus had brought in for him when he had just been hospitalized and started to put them on. 

"PROFESSOR SNAPE!" Madam Pomfrey chided as Severus was pulling on his underwear, fumbling slightly with the limited dexterity of his newly re-attached arm. "YOU ALMOST DIED TONIGHT! You can't leave the hospital wing! I will not give you a release!" 

Severus said silkily. "I have been here long enough to find your face even more disagreeable than I normally do, Poppy. And now that I can perform magic on my own again, I'll not be requiring your assistence." 

"Well I find your behaviour even more vexing that you probably find my face!" Madam Pomfrey retorted. "But you still have to stay. Just because you can walk again you think you're fine, well you're still weak and your internal organs are still healing. If your heart stops when Peeves hits you with a water balloon in the dungeon, who is going to help you?" 

"Peeves is a fool if he hits me with a water balloon and stops my heart, for I then shall also be a ghost, and a poltergeist at that, and as such, I shall return his courtesies tenfold." Severus said, although whether there was sarcasm in the remark, no one could ascertain. "I will hit him with far worse than water balloons in the afterlife, be assured." 

"Please father," little Harry had wandered out of his bed and past the divider into the triage area. 

"Harry, I've been here too long." Severus said, hastily fastening the many buttons on his white shirt, his left hand still moving slower than its partner. "The many injured here probably expended the stores of the healing potions and will require more in the near future..." 

"Father, if you didn't have your clothes, you'd have no choice but to stay here, right?" Harry ran over, knicked Severus' trousers and frock coat, and ran back into the main area of the hospital wing. 

"HARRY!" Severus stormed after the small boy, and pursued him several times around the ward. He stopped only when he noticed all the attention focussed on him, or rather his undercrackers. 

"WHAT!" he demanded of the group of red headed witches and wizards congregated around Mr. Weasley's bed, before stomping back to the triage area. 

Harry scampered after his father, and smiled when he saw the dark-haired wizard reluctantly donning a set of hospital gowns. 

"HARRY! You..." Severus growled, but the rest of his admonition died when the young boy hugged him. 

"I love you, father." Harry said, cursing his child's mind and body for being so blunt and truthful. "I wouldn't want to be all alone in the hospital..." 

"You have your friends here..." Severus responded. "You've got Miss Chang, Mr. Weasley and his siblings..." 

"Well I like them fine." Harry said, holding on tightly to Severus' trousers and frock coat that the man would not be tempted to take them and flee the ward. "But I want my father too. And I want you to stay here until you're well again, because I want you alive for many years." 

Severus chafed at the adoration, which he still did not feel he deserved fully. 

"And you still don't have my permission to die. So you'd better stay alive." 

While it was easier to argue with the teenaged Harry, he found he could not do the same with the far younger version of him, and only nodded his assent. Perhaps because the child's face was so angelic, or perhaps it was because this version of Harry spoke his mind even more freely than his older counterpart did... 

...Or perhaps he reciprocated some of the boy's great love. 

"Very well." Severus sighed, smoothing the thin fabric of the hospital gowns "let us return to our beds."

* * *

"That kid looks just like Harry Potter!" Ginny squealed to her brothers. 

The Weasleys approached the little boy in a phalanx formation. 

"Hi Ron!" the little boy said, sitting up abruptly. "Mrs. Weasley, Fred, Bill, George, Charlie, Ginny." 

"Bloody hell, Harry!" Ron squeaked, recognising his best friend's mannerisms but not understanding his diminutive stature, "what's happened to you?" 

Harry opened his mouth wide in astonishment. "You sweared!"

* * *

"So you have to stay a little kid for two or three weeks? Maybe even longer?" Ron squeaked after Harry explained his encounter with an experimental potion from Snape's laboratory. "Bloody Hell!" 

"RON!" Harry jumped out from under the covers and cupped a hand over his best friend's mouth. "No swearing! Gee! you have a foul mouth." 

"Sorry," Ron said, creasing his freckled nose. "But at least I didn't say something like Holy Sh--'" 

"Ronald Weasley!"Molly Weasley shouted, batting her son on the shoulder. 

"That's bad!" Harry said taking his pillow and whacking Ron in the face. "You're not supposed to swear!" 

Ron took one of Harry's other pillows and swatted the small boy over the head with a lot less force than he normally would have. It had been awkward at first. All Ron and the rest of the Weasleys present could do initially was stare at the miniature version of Harry Potter. With the exception of his small stature, childlike demeanor and high pitched voice, he was the same boy the Weasleys had had over at their home in the past, and the same boy that had ended the first reign of the Dark Lord. 

After a fair amount of lighthearted conversation, Mrs. Weasley, Bill, George, Charlie, Fred and Ginny had returned to Mr. Weasley's bedside. Ron remained with his best friend, seated at the foot of his bed. 

"So how did you know which potion to take?" Ron asked. 

"Cho helped me pick it out because she's in Da-Professor Snape's advanced potions class." Harry replied. "She comes visit her grandad almost every day. Her grandad is the one over there." Harry got onto his knees and pointed to the elderly wizard on the bed next to his, who still was literally half-man/half-dragon at the moment. YiChung read what appeared to be a magical newspaper printed in Chinese, and held it fairly close to his face with one very human hand, and one scaly claw. 

"Harry it's not polite to point at people." Ron whispered. 

"Sorry, Grandpa Chang!" Harry leaned over his bedrail as far as he could until he was just inches away from the partially transformed man. 

"Eh?" the aged wizard looked perplexed. "What for?" 

"Because I pointed at you, and its not nice to point at people." Harry said in contrition. 

"Ah, you're such a good boy, Harry." YiChung commended, before looking past Harry's bed at Severus, who appeared to be asleep. He would be sure to tell the boy's father of Harry's fine manners. Professor Snape must have been an exemplary father to have such a well behaved son. "It takes a great person to admit when they've done something wrong, although I took no offense your pointing at me. You are a child, after all. And children express themselves in ways that people who have seen many turns of the seasons tend to forget over time. It is nice to have young ones to teach us what many of us tend to forget." 

The silvery haired wizard's attention returned once more to his newspaper, pulling out an inner section to read, and putting the remainder onto his shiny scaled chest. He had remained in his half-man/half-dragon state for nearly two weeks, following being hit by two curses in the middle of his transformation. The strain on his human sized heart to adequately circulate blood throughout his larger body was starting to show. The scales on his clawed legs, and long, serpentine tail were starting to lose some of its iridescence, and had taken on a sickly, cyanotic appearance. His long white beard, which had been sparse before, was even thinner now, showing virtually all the skin through the fine wisps of facial hair. 

Harry turned back to Ron, and continued their pillow fight until Madam Pomfrey returned to do her rounds and chided the boys for being disruptive. After apologising to the austere nurse and to everyone else in the immediate area, Ron reclined next to Harry, deciding that some quiet conversation would be a suitable alternative to play fighting. Ron knew that he and the rest of the Weasleys would be leaving for the night in a little while, and wanted to enjoy some time with his best friend, however tiny he might have been. 

"So why did you take the potion in first place?" Ron, who was now right next to Harry's ear, asked. 

Because Harry now had a child's brain with which to reason, he answered Ron's question as completely as a true child would, giving every detail of the events and then some. Although Harry had not intended to do so, he let slip the minute detail that Severus Snape was his father. 

"The greasy git is your father!" Ron gasped, his face turning so pale it could only be described as cadaverous. "But isn't James Pot-" 

Harry jumped up and slapped Ron across the face, the loud sound of the impact causing Severus to spring out of his own bed to get involved on Harry's behalf. "Don't you call my father a greasy git!'" Harry grabbed Ron by the collar and made to swat him again, and Severus knew he would actually have to intervene Ron's behalf. 

"Harry," Severus gently, yet firmly took hold of Harry's wrist and sat him back down. "That will be quite enough." 

"Ron called you a greasy git!'" Harry said, rubbing tears from his eyes before launching into a full blown bawling session and wiping his eyes on his father's gowns. "And you're not a greasy git!" 

"Mr. Weasley, why did you call me a greasy git?'"Professor Snape asked, managing to look imposing even though he was clad only in white hospital gowns. 

"Sorry sir, but Fred and George, well that's what they called you, and it just sort of...slipped out." Ron replied sheepishly. 

"Really, Mr. Weasley I am disappointed." Severus said silkily, hardly affected by the use of a name he had heard whispered from as far back as his own days at Hogwarts. "I would have expected more originality from Hogwart's official pranksters and the esteemed best friend of our resident celebrity. Be assured though Mr. Weasley, had this occurred while Hogwarts was in session, I would not have hesitated to give you a week's worth of detention for your disrespect." 

More out of regard for his best friend, rather than any contrition he felt for his actions, Ron lowered his head. "I'm sorry I called you a 'greasy git,' sir. I won't do it again." 

After Severus nodded silently and returned to his bed, Harry reclined, placing his head next to Ron's once more. "So so so so!" Harry started. "YOUR dad's hair is so red I'll bet he washes it with ketchup! And he says eckeltricity!" 

Ron looked confused. "Well isn't it really called eckeltricity?" Ron asked, never hearing the muggle power matter called anything different. "And he does not use ketchup!" 

End Part Nineteen 


	20. World War III!

**Remembrance and Renewal** by **Nigel Tatsuya** and **Avatar Arkmage**   
Chapter Twenty: **World War III?**

The Weasleys visited with Harry frequently over the two days that he was required to remain in the infirmary. Mr. Weasley, who was physically confined to a bed a fair distance away, seemed to join his family vicariously at Harry's bedside, and frequently inquired as to the function of various muggle objects. Harry enjoyed these brief visits from the Weasleys, even though he was constantly at the mercy of Molly and Ginny Weasley's smothering. 

Even Cho Chang, who faithfully returned each day to be with her grandfather, visited with Harry for a short while each day. Harry's childlike mind could only faintly remember Cho as she intelligent Ravenclaw seeker she once was; when her when her eyes weren't bloodshot, or filled with tears for her ailing draconian grandfather. But now that Harry had a beloved grandparent of his own, he could at least partially comprehend her grief. 

"Thanks for the sesame candy, Cho!" Harry said, tearing into the box of sweets his former crush placed before him. 

"You're welcome," Cho said, drying her eyes on her sleeve. "My grandfather suggested that I bring sweets for that kindhearted little boy.'" 

Harry looked on either side of him, bewildered, before realising that he was the 'kindhearted little boy.' He then turned to YiChung Chang, who had grown considerably paler since the day he had been brought to the infirmary, "thanks...uh...uh...Grandpa Chang!" 

The weathered old man turned his head toward Harry and smiled weakly. He raised one scaly hand into to the air and waved, but he was too weak today to say anything. 

"Can't they do anything for your Granddad, Cho? He looks so sick!" 

"No," Cho said, crying once again. "He's too large in his half-transformed state, it would take more magic than the healers can expend at one time to heal him enough so that he can turn himself back into a full human." 

"What about a potion?" Harry asked, his mouth bulging with the sweet confection. 

"In his current state, it would be impossible to give him the right dose, or even the right kind of potion. And when he becomes fully human again, the amount of potions remaining in his blood would poison him." 

"Oh," Harry nodded, his young brain struggling to grasp the situation, "because some parts of him are all dragon, some quarter dragon or half-dragon, and some parts of him are still human? They can't make him drink a healing potion that is good for both dragon bodies and human bodies?" 

Cho's response was to turn away and sob more fervently. Harry, who now had a better understanding of what it meant to grieve for a loved one who might soon die, could not help but weep as well. 

It had been difficult in many ways for Harry to adjust to being a young child again. Harry found that he had very little control over his impulsive reactions, and cried with very little provocation. He also felt the need to express himself with far more intensity than he ever had before. When Ron or the twins told him a joke, he would laugh so loudly that it earned him the stares of nearly everyone in the infirmary, and a vintage Professor Snape glare' from his father. Another time, when Fred had made a disparaging remark about Severus, Harry jumped out of the bed and pounded the freckled teen with his small fists. It required both Ron and George to pull Harry off of their shocked brother. 

"Whoa! Fred was only joking, Harry!" Ron exclaimed. 

"Well he had better learn to be serious some of the time or I'll hit him again!" Harry threateningly addressed the whole red-headed entourage. He then lowered his voice so that only Ron, Fred and George could hear, "at least I don't say such mean things about your fa- some other people! Fred, how would you like it if I said your father was so addled that he would sit on the telly and watch the settee?" 

"He's so cute when he's mad." Ginny mumbled at the sight of Harry's clenched teeth, reddened cheeks and flaring nostrils. 

This only made Harry pout more, which even Severus Snape secretly found to be cute, although he would never disclose that fact to Harry. 

There were also advantages to Harry's smaller stature as well. Although Harry had difficulty climbing in and out of bed, and had trouble reaching for books from the nearby shelves, there was always someone around who would eagerly assist him. 

Severus Snape also apparently had a soft spot for Harry at this age, for he did not sneer, make discourteous remarks, or scowl nearly as often as he ordinarily would have. 

Even when Severus woke up one morning to find that Harry had crept into his narrow hospital bed and was snuggled up to him, he neither admonished nor tossed the boy callously out. Severus only shifted slightly to allow both of them more room on the bed, and greeted Harry with a: "Harry, this bed is not meant for two occupants, what do you think would have happened, had I accidentally rolled onto you in my sleep...?" 

Harry thought deeply about his answer, then replied, "uh...then I'd be squished?" 

Severus nodded, and made to say something more, but Harry quickly added: "...and then I'd say hey geroff me' and then you'd wake up, and you'd be so surprised that you'd yell, and that would wake everyone else in the hospital ward up. And some of the people you woke up would be mad, and then they'd start yelling, just like Uncle Vernon does when I wake him up with one of my nightmares..." 

Harry fingered his chin, as he delved deeper into speculation. "Their yelling would scare the house elves who would be bringing the breakfasts in if it was late enough in the morning, and because they got a fright, they would throw the food trays they were carrying into the air..." 

"And then, because the elves threw the food trays up, they had to come down, and maybe one would land on Madam Pomfrey's head, and knock her out so that she can't do her job. Dr. Chang would come in to help Madam Pomfrey, and then she'd probably slip on the spilled porridge or something and go skidding toward the door to the ward. That would be bad, but if Hagrid got bit by one of his dangerous creatures, and was coming to see Madam Pomfrey a the time, Dr. Chang who was already skidding on the floor would probably end up skidding into the door and the door would hit Hagrid and make him more hammered than he was in the first place." 

Severus Snape was both confused and intrigued, and only gave a barely perceptible nod. But Harry wasn't finished yet. 

"So because Hagrid got hit with the door that Dr. Chang slipped into, he's beat up and can't feed his dangerous creatures that morning until Dr. Chang or Madam Pomfrey makes him all better. But because they might be too wounded to help Hagrid, he won't be able to go back to his hut and feed his dangerous creatures. Because the creatures didn't eat, they'd be hungry, and then they'd try to escape to find food. The ones that do escape will go into the Forbidden Forest looking for food. Because some of the creatures already in the forest don't like some of the creatures Hagrid keeps, they get either eaten or else they eat the creatures or maybe they just fight." Harry curled up next to Severus once more, finding that the warmth of his father's body was very comforting. "If Hagrid's creatures find stuff to eat in the forest, that's good. If something from the forest eats them or they get into fights, that would be bad. Because of the fighting, some creatures who may not have been fighting, like the unicorns, get scared and run out of the Forbidden Forest. If they run out on the Hogwarts side of the forest, well it wouldn't be too good, but if they run out on the side where the muggles live, it would be bad because the muggles will be scared of seeing creatures they haven't seen before." 

Severus momentarily forgot what the original question had been, but he listened patiently as his little boy went on and on. "So because the muggles get scared, they call the police. The police come but they can't arrest the strange creatures, so they report it back to their police department. The police department doesn't believe their police officers saw strange creatures like unicorns, so they call the hospital for muggles who see things that don't exist to take the officers and the muggles who called the police in the first place to the special hospital." 

Severus had to smile faintly at the thought of people ending up in asylums for merely seeing magical creatures. Especially muggle law enforcers. Harry still wasn't done. "So because word travels fast in the muggle world, the scientists hear about the people being in the special hospital , and find out that they were sent there because they saw strange new creatures. Because scientists like to study new creatures, they go to the muggle town to investigate. Because the scientists are all there, the military gets interested and goes there too. The Military sees the creatures and thinks that they are being attacked by creatures from Mars or Jupiter and they launch some weapons to fight them." 

"Harry," Severus forestalled his son. "I do not believe Martians and Jovians would look like creatures from the forbidden forest." 

"Well the muggles wouldn't know that, would they? So when the other countries around the UK see the military firing weapons, they think that Britain is making a war, and because they don't want to lose, they fire weapons back at the UK. Because the UK got attacked, they fire weapons back at the country that did it. When that country gets hit, the USA President will scold the UK Prime Minister for making a war with helpless other countries..." 

"Why would the USA President scold our Prime Minister?" Severus asked. 

"Because the USA always scolds countries that are fighting. Because Canada and Mexico won't attack the USA, and not many other countries are close enough to do so, the USA President won't get to scold them because they didn't do anything wrong in the first place. So because the USA President doesn't get to yell at people for Wars against them, they'll scold countries that actually are fighting with each other, and because they'll see that the UK fired their weapons first, they'll yell at our Prime Minister." Harry speculated from what he had gleaned from muggle history classes. "So when the USA President scolds our Prime Minister for fighting, our Prime Minister will have to explain about the creatures, and the USA military will think the Prime Minister is just using the creatures as an excuse for going to war. So the USA will launch a missile at the UK to make them stop. When Germany, Russia and some other countries sees that the UK and the USA are fighting, they'll help either the USA or the UK, depending on which place they happen to like better. And the M1 Abrams will go 'boom!'and the scud missiles will go 'ffffffffsh!'" Harry was now doing a series of hand gestures to fully illustrate the art of muggle warfare. By this time, Severus was not Harry's only audience. All the patients and visitors within hearing range were giving Harry their undivided attention; non-magical folk seemed to compensate well for their lack of magical abilities indeed. "Then again, maybe those other countries don't like either the UK or the USA, so they'll fire their weapons at both countries to make them stop fighting because wars are noisy and pollute the air. The UK and the USA will think that all those other countries want to make a war with them, and they'll fight back then." 

Mr. Weasley looked as though he longed to have Harry explain more about muggle MP3 Miss-hells, Shaman Tanks, and the Potomac Balm, but he was too interested in the story being told to interrupt. 

"By now, the people in China and Japan will be hearing all the rumpus and seeing all the pollution in the sky from all the fighting in Europe and North America, so China threatens to join the fight, and Japan, who used to be violent before, but haven't fought in about fifty years since then, will keep all the muggle cars for themselves and threaten not to send anyone tellies, cool cartoons and video games until the fighting stops. When the muggles all over the world's tellies and video games break down they'll demand that Japan send them some more, and Japan will say "no we won't, because you're still fighting. And we made the New Nintendo SuperUberDuper Fun Video Game console and you won't get to play it, nyah nyah!" And the rest of the world probably wouldn't want to play war on the Nintendo SuperUberDuper Fun Video Game Console anyway, because they're already fighting a war for real. Why would you fly an F-18 in a video game, when you can join the military and fly the real ones?" 

Harry's eyes grew wide, as though he were scaring himself with his own pessimistic tale. "And at this point, everyone will be mad at everyone else. And soon there will be World War III. And when they use the weapons of mass destruction...oh...oh!" 

Severus' eyes widened, waiting for Harry to continue. Children could tell better stories than adults could, and in truth, Severus was rather enjoying this one. He didn't have many experiences with the muggle world, but this was too funny. When Harry didn't go on, Severus asked: "...and then?" 

"And then that's all, because it's World War III, there probably won't be anything to tell after that, except maybe about extinction, but that's too scary to think about." 

"So...what you're saying, is if I were to roll onto you in my sleep, it could lead to World War III and the possible extinction of our species, both magical and non-magical alike!" 

"Uh huh." 

"Then why on Earth are you in this bed with me? Go on, then! Surely you don't want the muggles getting into another war and putting an end to us all!" 

"YAAAAAAAAH! I'm going, I'm going." Harry screeched, scrambling back to his own bed. He certainly did not want to be responsible for the start of World War III.

* * *

Severus reminded Harry time and again, over the remainder of their hospital stay, to keep their being father and son a secret, for it would endanger both of them greatly if that information were to fall in the wrong hands. To further alleviate suspicions any of the other patients might have been having, Harry routinely joined other receptive patients in their beds and told them stories fabricated in his deaged mind. Mr. Weasley was pleasantly surprised, and came away from the experience with information on muggle artifacts he had no idea existed. 

Harry had trouble climbing onto YiChung's bed however, for the draconian portion of the elderly wizard's body took up most of the free space on the bed, but Harry was determined. He pushed a chair right up to the railings of the elderly wizard's/dragon's bed, and swapped stories with him as well. 

"So that is what will happen if a golfer throws his clubs when he's angry?" YiChung asked, barely refraining from laughing at the dottiness, yet brilliance of the youth's tale. 

"Oh yes!" Harry nodded resolutely. "They would do well to put 'do not throw your golf clubs when you're angry' signs at every course in Britain, wouldn't they?"

* * *

"Headmaster," Severus began on the day following his release from the hospital ward. "I would like to request some time away from Hogwarts." 

The Headmaster looked up from the stack of parchments on his desk. "It is Summer, Severus. You may leave Hogwarts if you so desire." 

Severus nodded curtly and turned to leave the headmaster's office. 

"May I inquire as to where you are going?" Dumbledore asked, looking over his half-moon spectacles. 

The dark-haired wizard swallowed hard. "Back to Snape Manor..." He had not been home in over five years, and before then, he had only gone back to retrieve something or complete other business, but he would never stay in his childhood home for more than a few hours at a time. 

Albus dropped his quill in surprise. "Snape Manor?" 

"The place is still heavily warded." Severus replied, sitting in one of the armchairs in front of Albus' desk. Albus guessed it was because Severus was trembling inwardly and felt he would need support to stand. "And with the Dark Lord being laid up for a while, courtesy of the-boy-who-wouldn't-die-and-acts-on-impulse-no-matter-how-foolish-or- irrational-or-dangerous-the-actions, I would like to return home..." Severus's expression changed, causing him to look less like the stoic potions master, and more like the morose, yet hopeful boy he had been nearly two decades in the past. "...and I would like to show Harry his ancestral home." 

"While I have no objections to your returning to Snape Manor," Albus said, rising from behind his desk. "It is not advisable to remove Harry from the safety of Hogwarts." 

Severus glared at the Headmaster, but said nothing. 

"Severus," Albus said, placing his hands comfortingly on the younger man's shoulders. "Surely Voldemort will not be incapacitated for long. What if he summons you and discovers that Harry is in your care? The situation would be most grievous for both of you." 

"Please," Severus lowered his head. "Pot-Harry and I, may have had our differences in the past...but...well... he needs a father. And he needs to learn of his past." Severus clenched his fists, as though the very words seared his throat. "And I wouldliketomakeamendstohim... " 

The Headmaster's eyes twinkled fiercely. "I empathize with your need to nurture Harry, in a manner he has been deprived of for so long, but it is too dangerous. Voldemort would undoubtedly attack..." 

"We'll only remain there for a few days, Headmaster." Severus said softly. "And it is not likely that the Dark Lord will feel up to causing trouble any time soon..." 

"Why do you say that?" 

"Because I purposely botched his healing potions." Severus said, his sneer looking suspiciously like an amused smile. At the headmaster's perplexed expression, Severus elaborated. "You see, ordinary healing potions are species specific, meaning those meant for humans work best on humans and those meant for other creatures work best on the creature it was created for. Ever since the Dark Lord's resurrection, he hasn't been fully human so I've had to tailor his healing potions to suit his physiology." 

"And you purposely made those potions meant for him to underperform?" Albus asked, his eyes twinkling. 

"They perform about as well as muggle analgesics. It will relieve his pain, but beyond that, the potion will not mend his tissues significantly, and will not help him regain much of his strength. The Pepper up draught will marginally help in that respect, but with his body left to heal basically on its own, he is not likely to feel well enough to plan many raids for at least another week or two. " Severus' eyes glittered. "The Dark Lord thinks that I haven't yet perfected his healing potions!" 

"He should know better, since you are among the best, if not the best, potions master in the entire UK." Albus replied. "Although I dare say, it is no less than Voldemort deserves for torturing you and countless others with similar potions." 

"I always tell him that I'm working on it, and will soon perfect the healing potion for him," Severus said, smiling deviously now. "But I don't plan on brewing a perfect healing potion for him in the near future... " 

Severus was every bit the Slytherin he had been ever since he was sorted into that house so long ago. 

"Very well, Severus. Harry may accompany you back to Snape manor. However you must allow Filius, Remus, Minerva and I to go with you initially to help assure the safety of the wards, and make adjustments where necessary." 

"Agreed." Severus said without emotion. "If you'll excuse me, Headmaster. I need to refresh the potions stores for the Madam Pomfrey." 

Although Severus stormed all the way back to the dungeons, forcing anyone who passed him in the hall to step aside, his heart felt lighter than it had in months. Whether it was because he had come to terms with some aspects of his past, or because he found his little angel again, or because he had died and had come back, or because the de-aged Harry gave Severus the opportunity to recapture some of the experiences that would have otherwise been lost to him, or whether it was a conglomeration of all these things, Severus could not ascertain. All he knew was that his heart felt just a little lighter. 

End Part Twenty 


	21. Enslavement

**Remembrance and Renewal** By **Nigel Tatsuya** and** Avatar Arkmage**   
Chapter Twenty-One: ** Enslavement**

Although Severus stormed all the way back to the dungeons, forcing anyone who passed him in the hall to step aside, his heart felt lighter than it had in months. Whether it was because he had come to terms with some aspects of his past, or because he found his little angel again, or because he had narrowly escaped death's grasp, or because the de-aged Harry gave Severus the opportunity to recapture some of the experiences that would have otherwise been lost to him, or whether it was a conglomeration of all these things, Severus could not ascertain. All he knew was that his heart felt just a little lighter. 

Within the hour, Severus was standing before two boiling caldrons. He added the ingredients to each carefully, and cast the spells when the time was appropriate. 

Harry, who had insisted that he deserved to do hard chores for being bad, sat at the desk behind Severus. The potion master had given him the tedious task of preparing non-magical potion ingredients. For the next six hours, Harry chopped, grated and pulverised all sorts of plant and animal matter, whilst listening to his father give a lecture on the properties of each ingredient. 

"I thought you were going to scold me?" Harry queried when his father went silent. 

"I never stated that I intended to scold you." Severus replied, without looking up from the caldron he was stirring. "I said I'd lecture you, and that is what I've done." 

After Harry had grated the Graphorn horn into a fine powder, he rested his head on the desk. He suddenly felt very sleepy, and would rest for only a little while' he decided. Apparently, he had worked harder than he thought he had. 

When Severus heard a soft snore from behind him, he turned around and sighed. It had not occurred to him before, but he recalled that younger children required at least one nap during the day. Cursing himself inwardly for not providing the boy with lunch first, he took Harry in his arms and carried him into his bedroom. He would be sure to tell the house elves to bring the boy some soup and sandwiches as soon as he woke. 

Severus placed Harry onto the bed and turned to leave. Before he stepped out the door, Harry called to him. "Professor Sna- Father..." 

"What is it?" Severus stopped, "Are you hungry?" 

Harry shook his head, he hadn't a morsel of food for hours, and he knew he ought to be feeling quite famished, but he was not. His appetite for answers from his father however, was far from sated. "I-I wanted to ask you something... 

Severus nodded, his foot still in the doorway. 

"If Voldemort..." 

"Don't say his name, foolish boy!" Severus hissed. 

"Okay...sorry. Uh, if the Dark Lord is so mean to everyone." Harry began, recalling images of his father being hurt by Voldemort, "Why do people still listen to him? Why don't they all turn into spies like you, and all use your magics against him at once or something? You could even kill him maybe, if you all joined forces." 

Severus leaned his arm on the doorway and rested his head on it. His first instinct was not to answer at all, and to tell the boy to shut up and go to sleep. But young Harry had asked a valid question. One that he himself had asked throughout his life. 

How blunt and straightforward a child can be. Adults and mature adolescents usually know when to censor themselves. They know what questions are acceptable and reasonable. Children, by contrast, will speak freely of whatever is on their minds, and ask precisely the questions that they want answers to, when they so desire such answers. 

Severus remained silent for a few minutes. He wondered just how involved his answer should be, as well as how much information would be appropriate. On one hand, Harry was really a sixteen year old in a five or six year-old's body. On the other, the boy had only the processing capabilities of a young child, and may not understand much of what Severus would tell him. Then again, this was the very boy who had stood up to The Dark Lord on more than one occasion before, and if fate were correct, would have to do so at least once more. 

Noting the transpiring silence, Severus raised his head and slowly and turned around, hoping beyond hope that the boy had surrendered to the siren's call of slumber. The boy had been sleepy after all. He had even succumbed asleep at the work table. Surely... 

"Professor Snape?" Harry said, his gimlet gaze so intense that Severus could practically feel it boring holes into his torso. "Why do people listen to Volde- I mean- Mouldyshorts, if he's such a mean wizard?" The little boy sat up and started shivering. "He's so cruel! Why obey such a cruel person? He hurt so many people, he even used the Cruciatus curse on me. Twice..." 

Severus whirled around fully and ambled to the foot of the bed. He had not been there for Voldemort's return on that fateful night after the Triwizard Tournament, and hadn't known that the curse had been deployed on Harry. 

" And I'd never ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever follow him for hurting me like that. And for what he did to my mother, my other father James and for what I saw him do to you... I want to kill him." Harry stated, his eyes glowing with the coldest green fire Severus had ever seen. "Professor Snape-father, can I come with you as a spy too? I want to kill Moldyshorts!" 

"Bloody Gryffindor recklessness!" Severus hissed, "Do anything of the sort and you'll not live to see another birthday! You won't even return to your former age with that carelessness! I do not want you ever joining the Death Eaters, and you are not to go anywhere near Voldemort again! Do I make myself clear?" 

"Sorry sorry!" Harry whimpered, shielding his head and covering his face. The sheer vehemence of Severus's voice frightened Harry, and once more he was worried that he'd be struck. 

Severus was acutely reminded of his younger self once more when he saw Harry back away to the headboard trembling in fear. "Pot-Harry, I did not intend to frighten you." Seeing that the boy was still quivering, Severus eased onto the bed, and slowly moved to sit next to his son, making no abrupt motions as he leaned against the headboard. Wanting to prove to himself that he was nothing like his own father Lucien, who would have roundhouse kicked him for even daring to ask about the Death Eaters, Severus decided to indulge Harry just a little. "I do not want you to suffer as I, and others like me, have. Now, ask one question at a time..." 

"Okay," Harry scooted closer, so that their bodies were touching. "So why do people listen to a rotten, nasty, mean, boogeyman like Mouldyshorts?" 

"Harry," having never spoken to such a small child before, Severus was unsure how exactly to proceed. He choose his words carefully, "you must never tell another what I am about to disclose to you." 

"Wha-what?" 

Severus rephrased: "Are you proficient at keeping secrets?" 

"Oh yes, I'll never tell anyone what you tell me to keep secret!" 

"Then whatever I am about to say to you..." Severus felt silly doing this, but kept his face otherwise expressionless, "...stays secret between you and me?" 

"Oh yes yes yes! I swear it's a secret, I promise! Cross my heart and hope to die." Harry cupped a hand under his ear and scooted very close to Severus. "Poke a needle in my eye! Jab a dagger in my thigh! Eat a cow pie...!" 

"Very well, very well!" Severus nodded in concession. "There is no need for you to eat a cow pie! But speaking of eating, and as the answer to your question will be a lengthy one, we will speak further over lunch..." 

"Aw come on! I said I wasn't hungry." Harry whinged. 

"Nevertheless." Severus said, nudging Harry to his feet. "You've not had anything to eat since breakfast, and I, as..." he spoke softer, "your father... must insist that you not starve yourself, as you are still growing. I can better answer your questions as you have your lunch." 

"Will you eat with me?" Harry tentatively reached up and took his father's hand. "Please?" 

"Very well." 

Harry took off at a run toward the dining area, with a very taken off guard Severus Snape in tow.

* * *

A house elf's face appeared in the flames almost immediately after Severus called the kitchens through the internal floo network. "What can we get you, good sirs?" 

Severus nodded to Harry, and Harry eagerly put his head right up to the green flames, nearly head-butting the elf as he did so. He was very careful not to let his head come in contact with the flames themselves. "Hi! May I please have some soup and pudding, and some macaroni and cheese, and some of that...uhm...uhm...what do you call it...I know I had it when Cho brought some over...oh yeah, some dim sum and almond cookies, and some stir-fried pork and broccoli, and some asparagus with cheese sauce, some buttered carrots, and some chicken nuggets, and some grilled cheese sandwiches, and some grape juice, and some..." 

"Harry!" Severus gently pulled Harry away from the green flames. "I thought you said you were not hungry?" 

"That was before. I am hungry now." 

When the elf asked Severus what he wanted, he just waved that he wanted nothing. He knew that Harry had ordered enough food to feed at least seven other people in addition to themselves. 

"Come, Harry." Severus said, leading Harry to a basin. "Let us wash our hands."

* * *

Draco had been in the muggle hospital for a few days now. Paradoxically, Draco found that he was far less bored here than he had been in those times he had convelesced in a wizarding hospital, or in the medical wing at Hogwarts. Through the door to his hospital room, which was situated directly in front of the nurse's station, he found the muggle medical staff interesting to watch as they went about doing their jobs, all without the benefit of magic. The muggle nurses and female doctors were especially interesting to watch, though at a distance, as they went about their day in their form-fitting, lower leg displaying white dresses. 

If he tired of watching the nurse's station, Draco never failed to enjoy the muggle telly box. No wonder muggles didn't miss not being able to perform magic! If they ever felt unhappy, about anything, they could easily be entertained by the telly box. There were always programmes airing that would cheer up even the most morose person. Draco smiled at the thought of Professor Snape watching Monty Python' on a telly. He would find it a challenge to be remain grouchy after watching that! And if he ever wanted to see how asinine muggle bad guys could be, Professor Snape should watch Robin Hood: Prince of Thieves.' Even he would surely laugh at the vacuous, strategically unsound antics of the Sheriff of Nottingham. 

Draco would be sure to ask his parents if they could acquire a muggle telly at Malfoy Mansion. Surely, Narcissa would enjoy the programmes showings parts of the world far from the United Kingdom, for she had not had the opportunity to travel much before marrying Lucius. And Lucius would probably enjoy watching Jerry Springer, because the muggles on that show were so imbecilic that Crabbe Sr. and Goyle Sr. would look intelligent by comparison! Now that Draco thought on it, even Crabbe Jr. and Goyle Jr. looked like they belonged in Ravenclaw compared to some of the guests on Jerry Springer. 

Draco was in the middle of watching a news report when Dr. Payne and a nurse Draco had not seen before tapped on his door and entered his room. 

"Good Day, Draco." Dr. Payne said, motioning to the nurse next to him. "This is Nurse Slatter, she's new in the paediatrics department, and will be working with you on this floor." 

Draco recoiled inwardly as he shook hands with Nurse Slaughter. Dr. Pain then went about examining Draco's injuries, and redressing his wounds as Nurse Slaughter took a few notes and assisted when necessary. When Dr. Pain replaced he covers on Draco, Nurse Slaughter left the room. 

"You still won't tell me who gave you that black eye?" Dr. Payne asked softly. 

"I don't wanna talk about it, Dr. Pain." 

"Very well." Dr. Payne sighed. "By the way, Draco. Your records show that you haven't had a flu immunisation shot this year." 

Draco had no idea what a floo immunisation shot' was and tried to avoid looking at Dr. Pain blankly. He concluded that floo shots were something muggles should know about. "I suppose not." 

"Well then, you'll have to have it." Dr. Payne stated, withdrawing a small vial from a case. "The flu strain this year is particularly brutal, and this will only take a moment." 

Draco couldn't imagine why Dr Pain wanted to shoot Draco through the floo network, but concluded that that was the way muggle hospitals discharged their patients or something. 

At seeing the vial containing only a small amount of liquid within on the tray table, Draco quickly agreed. Professor Snape could take a lesson from the muggles, he concluded. No large vial of bad-tasting potion to drink, or messy powder to throw into the flames, just a very tiny one with only a few drops worth of a clear muggle potion inside. 

Draco closed his eyes and tilted his head back with his mouth opened wide to allow Dr. Payne to administer the potion. Dr. Payne began filling a syringe. He found Draco's behaviour exceedingly odd, but surmised that the boy was just only trying to be funny. 

"Okay Draco, roll up your sleeve." 

"Huh?" 

"Roll up your sleeve, please." 

Draco did so, thinking that the potion would have to be applied to his skin or something, and didn't flinch when he felt Dr. Payne swabbing his arm with something cold. Yes, muggles probably did develop potions that could be applied through the skin. 

The pale boy opened his grey eyes just in time to see Dr. Pain about to jab him in the arm with a NEEDLE! "NO!" Draco shouted, blasting the young physician's hand away with wandless magic. Dr. Payne dropped the needle in shock... ...the sharp tip landed in Draco's thigh. 

"Draco!" Dr. Payne asked in confusion, looking somewhat stunned from the unfamiliar magical blast. "What did you just do!" 

But Draco only responded with a resounding: "AYYYYYYY! It hurts! Get it out! Get it out!" 

Dr. Payne, who was starting to doubt his decision to pursue a career in paediatrics and adolescent medicine, examined the area that the needle's tip had pierced, and determined that it would be suitable. He gently injected the contents of the syringe into the boy's thigh before withdrawing the needle. 

"OWWWWW!" Draco groaned. "That hurt!" 

Dr. Payne sat in the chair next to Draco's bed, still feeling somewhat stunned. He patiently explained about the symptoms of the latest flu strain, and how the injection he had just given Draco would help keep the youth in good health. By the time Dr. Payne made to leave the room, Draco was even more intrigued by the ways muggles, especially muggle healers, coped without the use of magic. To think that little needle could help his body fight sickness. Couple that with the Pepper Up potion, and one would never have to worry about being sick again. 

Draco's attention returned to the telly once more, and he marvelled at a programme called ER' which showed muggle healers helping seriously wounded people. He was intrigued, and hardly noticed the snail's pace with which Dr Payne hobbled out of the room. 

When Dr Payne closed the door behind him, he muttered to the nurses watching curiously at the station: "I don't feel well at all."

* * *

"So," Severus said, sitting at the dining table just as the food trays began appearing. Harry sat in the seat beside his father, not wanting to be too far away from him. "About your question..." He stopped when another table appeared next to the first to accommodate the additional entrees. "People follow the Dark Lord, and other leaders like him for all sorts of reasons." 

"There's other leaders just like him!" Harry asked, chomping a grilled cheese sandwich. 

"Yes, throughout history, all humans, muggle and magical alike, have followed leaders who can be described as cruel. Evil even." Severus started, only turning over a dim sum in his plate. "Some people follow leaders like that because it is their inherent nature to follow strong leaders. It gives them a sense of safety, and protection, whether they are truly kept safe or not. Some enjoy leaders who are in control of them, because they trust that leader to keep them safe from even more grievous threats, whether real or only perceived. They would willingly live and die at the will of their leader." 

Harry stared at Severus, his mouth bulging with food. "So like when I was really small, I did whatever Uncle Vernon would tell me since I was even more scared of what the neighbours would do if they found out about me? 

Severus nodded solemnly before forcing himself to continue. "Others will only follow a leader, if that leader appears to be the one who will ultimately vanquish other leaders ..." 

Harry swallowed his food. "...Like Peter Pettigrew?" 

"Yes." Severus said, stopping for a few spoonfuls of soup. "If anyone stronger than The Dark Lord were to appear, or even if many of the Death Eaters revolted at once, people like Peter would switch sides when it was clear that the revolutionaries would emerge victorious." 

Harry looked as though he had stuffed a whole chicken nugget in his mouth to avoid making a comment that could get him in trouble. Peter Pettigrew was some one Harry disliked almost as much as Voldemort. 

"Those that join The Dark Lord willingly, often are dissatisfied with how things are being run in the magical world currently." Severus went on. "Even Peter sees that the people are disgruntled with the ministry's current leadership, and would elect new leaders, were it put to a vote today." 

"Then why don't they just vote for some one other than Cornelius Fudge to be minister?" 

"Well for one thing, the one suitable person for the job, Albus Dumbledore, refused the post back in 1990." Severus lamented. "Scandal followed Bartemius Crouch Sr, who would also have made a suitable, though harsh minister, costing him the chance at the post." 

"So only Cornelius Fudge was left?" 

"Yes, and now until Cornelius Fudge is forced out of the position, we have no chance of new leadership..." 

"Why?" 

"That is the nature of the minister's position." Severus replied. "Unless Cornelius Fudge is caught at doing something illegal, there is very little chance he will be asked to step down, and even so, the common people in the magical world aren't given the opportunity to really choose our leaders. For all you know..." 

"But isn't what Fudge did to me, you know, lying to convince people in the magical world that I was crazy, illegal?" 

"It wouldn't be enough to have Fudge arrested. If lying like that were illegal, imagine how often people like Rita Skeeter and other journalists who write for publications like The Quibbler would be caught at breaking the law." 

"Oh yeah," Harry sighed, munching absently on an almond cookie. 

"So anyway, in addition to being at odds with the way our world is governed, people join the Death Eaters for other benefits." Severus paused to eat some macaroni and cheese. "In addition to the money, the amount of which many of the poorer Death Eaters would never see in their lifetimes, many join for power. Common people in the magical world have very little political power, but if you join an organization like the Death Eaters, one can make contributions of laundered money to the ministry in exchange for special favours from them...or you can bribe them to overlook certain illegal activities you might have engaged in." 

"Like Mr. Malfoy..?" Harry mumbled under his breath. "Probably paid people at the ministry to look the other way for years. If it weren't for people like Arthur Weasley, the ministry would be really corrupt wouldn't it?" 

"Yes... The Dark Lord sees to it that the poorer Death Eaters are given money specifically for the purpose of bribery. That little extra to contribute to the ministry, assures the Dark Lord allegiance from the poorer minions." 

"Why would that give them power?" 

"Well, take your friend, Mr Weasley, for example." Severus began, hoping he could make Harry understand. 

"You mean Ron?" 

"Yes. Now just suppose, whilst he is carrying out his Prefect Duties, he came upon a student who was out of his or her dorms after curfew, what is it he ought to do?" 

"He should warn them that they aren't supposed to do that, and deduct points if the person argued back, or was out after curfew more than once before?" 

"Now suppose that person, Mr. Weasley came upon, were on bad terms with him. Perhaps one of the students who joined in the Weasley is our King' chant..." 

"That was mean how they teased him! I guess Ron might deduct points from him or her straight away? No warnings." 

"Exactly, yet if that student had given Mr. Weasley a sickle or two in the past." Severus went on, hoping he were explaining himself well enough for Harry to understand. "Mr. Weasley might be tempted to reconsider. What if they were caught out after curfew a few times before, but they offered Ron a few sickles or even a galleon in exchange for him not issuing demerits?" 

"Ron should still report them for breaking the rules... but I guess he might not? Even if the student is out after curfew more than once? Ron might give him or her a second, or even a third warning." 

"That is how some of the Death Eaters come away with little punishment for their transgressions against our laws." Severus explained. "Similar idea." 

"But what if they are caught at killing some one? Or if the ministry knows those people handing them bribes are really Death Eaters." 

"In that event, the ministry would have to arrest the offender, bribe or no." Severus replied. "But if you were caught at doing something like charming a muggle car, or possessing a few dark arts objects, a few galleons could make the right officials look the other way." 

"So Death Eaters get lots of money and stuff?" Harry thought out loud. "But what if they don't like to kill, or beat up on muggles or death eaters who have made mistakes? And why do they stay if they get beat up when Moldyshorts is mad... why do they let Moldyshorts... hurt them?" 

Severus stirred his soup whilst he formulated a suitable answer in his mind. He was tempted not to answer at all, but somehow felt compelled to do so. "Loyalty...is one reason" he closed his eyes, undoubtedly remembering those times when he had been hurt in that manner. 

"Loyalty? But why do you endure it?" 

"I ... endure... his attentions... to... appear to be a broken man." 

"Broken man?" Harry didn't seem to fully understand. "Of course if Moldieshorts breaks your body, you're going to look broken." 

"No...I mean, I have to appear just as a man who would not dare rise against him. I have behave as though I'm too scared of being hurt worse than I've already been." 

Harry pursed his lips together so tightly that his mouth seemed to disappear altogether. He was **THAT** angry. "I don't understand why you do that!" 

"Okay..." Severus finished all the tea in his cup before continuing. "Let me explain in a way you might better understand. Take elephants in a zoo or a circus for an example... do you notice how they often have only a thin rope or no rope at all around their necks?" 

"Uh huh?" 

"Do you actually believe that rope by itself is enough to keep the powerful elephant from running away?" 

"No," Harry paused after swallowing the last bite of his dim sum and taking another. "I'll bet the elephant is strong enough to break just a little rope easily." 

"So what do you suppose is really preventing the elephant from running away? What do you think is keeping it breaking its bonds, and stomping on those in holding it captive?" Severus went on. 

"It is afraid of what will happen to it if it hurts its masters." Harry gasped. "It will probably get beat, or maybe even killed! So that's what you're telling me, huh? Like before when they used to first take an animal out of the wild, they'd either keep it in a strong cage? Or tie it up with lots of chains and stuff? And if the animal fights back or tries to get away, they beat it and stuff... Oh oh...no, that's exactly what you mean about how Voldemort breaks down people huh?" 

Severus nodded, gravely. "Until we have no more fight left in us." 

"Whatever you do, father," Harry whinged desperately. "Don't let him make you a broken man for real!" 

Having taken another bite of dim sum, Severus could only nod. Even if his mouth wasn't full, he still would have been rendered speechless. The look of the purest love and admiration, just for him, on his son's face was something he had never expected to see. Harry loved Severus. His little angel, after so many years, loved him still. 

Harry put his arm around Severus and embraced him slightly. To his delight, Severus did not flinch at the contact. "Father, if Mouldyshorts leads like that, why do people who are already members of the Death Eaters even help him get new members? 

"Harry, this might be hard for you to understand, but some people actually see the Death Eaters, as family." At Harry's look of astonishment, Severus hastened to explain. "Well... perhaps not family, but the group gives them a sense of belonging. Quite a few people in the Death Eaters have been rejected in some way by their own families or by society." 

"By society?" 

"You have no doubt heard what they say, about witches and wizards out of the Slytherin house becoming dark wizards. Add to that, the fact that many of the youths in Slytherin today have parents who are either dead or in Azkaban..." 

"Well those of us in other houses have parents who are dead too!" Harry shouted. "Killed by the Death Eater parents of those Slytherin kids!" 

Severus's voice grew softer. "But is it the fault of the students currently in Slytherin?" 

"No... of course not, most of them were only babies or young children when my parents were killed." 

"Unfortunately, that initial reaction of yours is one that is shared by too many in the wizarding world. The children must bear the blame for crimes committed by their parents or grandparents." 

"It's stupid to do that!" Harry declared. "But then again, even in the Muggle World, there are whole countries who blame the children and grandchildren of the original people who did the crimes, even if fifty or two-hundred years pass. That would mean that my children, and even grandchildren would be expected to pay for what you did if people knew we were father and son." 

Severus nodded. "Some have no alternative but to turn to the Dark Lord. In a way, he offers the Slytherin youth the only comfort they might have ever received for losing their parents and bearing a lifetime of guilt. Ravenclaws, Hufflepuffs and especially Gryffindors fail to acknowledge the grief that youths in Slytherin might be feel for their own parents. Granted, their parents may have been Death Eaters, some may have been directly involved in the slaughter of the parents of youth in other houses, but the Death Eater parents are still parents." 

Harry regarded Severus with a heavy heart. It is in their nature for youths to love their parents, even Harry, despite his past with Professor Snape, could not help but love him when Professor Snape was simply 'father.' 

Do you believe Slytherins love their parents any less than Hufflepuffs, Gryffindors or Ravenclaws do? " 

"No, father." Harry said, lowering his head and busying himself with putting more asparagus on his plate. "I have to tell you something..." 

Severus looked at Harry over the rim of his teacup. 

"The Sorting Hat didn't originally place me in Gryffindor. It wanted to put me in Slytherin at first, saying I could do well in Slytherin." 

Severus' froze. 

"It's true, it only sorted me into Gryffindor because I was hoping that it wouldn't place me in Slytherin." Harry noted Severus' shocked expression. "I heard bad things about the Slytherin House even before I got to Hogwarts, what else could I have thought?" 

Severus turned away from Harry. 

"Is that why you're so nice to the Slytherins? Because people think they are worthless and will just go bad when they grow up? Because no one else cares about them? Even when they're sad?" 

Severus nodded, still avoiding Harry's gaze. "People are cruel enough to tell some of those children that their Death Eater parents deserved to die, which might have been the case, but it still is cruel to say that to one who must deal with the death of their parents." 

"I'd be so mad if you had died, and some one told me that you deserved it!" Harry pouted. "I'd want to punch them for saying that." 

Severus still did not turn back to Harry, he would ask Harry more about his initial sorting into Slytherin later. "Anyway, back to your question. Because of the way Slytherins are looked down upon, they tend to stick together as a group all the more. And because Tom Riddle was once a Slytherin, the youth look up to him as something of a role model. For some, he is even seen as a pseudo parent." 

"Because some of the Slytherin children don't know what having a real parent is like? Or maybe a cruel family is all they know?" 

"Yes. Or sometimes it's because they want to recapture the sense of security a gang or family can offer. Those members are among Voldemort's most loyal. " 

Harry struggled with this new information. He had only thought of the Death Eaters as a bunch of mindless bullies who joined with the Dark Lord for no other reason than personal gain. Sure, some of the Death Eaters were there for personal gain, and some were there because they were bullies. But Harry had never understood why some members could be so loyal, and didn't understand fully even now. 

"And some Death Eaters, they were forced into joining? Like you?" Harry asked. 

Severus nodded. "In my case, and probably in your Grandfather's case as well, Voldemort had much to gain by having us in his ranks. So we were coerced into taking the mark." 

"You mean they tortured grandmother until you took the mark." Harry blurted out. 

"What? You saw?" Severus said, more as a statement than a question. His hands, uncharacteristically, shook so much that he dropped the platter of buttered carrots on the floor. 

"Yes, I saw it all, that's why I know it's not your fault." Harry said, taking Severus's trembling hand in his own. "But why can't you just leave the Death Eaters?" 

"Once you join the Death Eaters, you are there for life. Surely you've not met many other ex-Death Eaters since the Dark Lord's second rise." Severus said, still keeping his face turned away from Harry as he helped the house elves clear the table, and managing to drop another plate on the floor. "The only way you can leave is by dying. Either of natural causes or by being killed." 

"Why?" 

Severus pulled up his sleeve and showed Harry his Dark Mark, causing Harry's scar to throb slightly. "This! This is what bonds us to the Dark Lord for life. This mark was created using one of the oldest and most dark forms of magic, seldom used since the days when wizards enslaved other wizards. Yes, even our kind once practised human slavery." 

"Just like the muggles did?" 

"Not quite to the scale of what muggles did, but yes, it still occurred. Slaves were magically branded to keep them from ever trying to escape. Only the one who originally gave the brand can remove the spell. These marks are no different. If any of us were to attempt escape, the Dark Lord could either send other Death Eaters after us to put us to a very painful death, or else he could just search for us himself since he could cast a simple tracking spell to find us. " 

Harry's young brain rivalled even Hermione's in its speed. "Can't you hide behind wards though so that Voldie can't find you?" 

"Yes, wards can disable tracking spells, but he can still cause your mark to burn. No matter where a would be ex-Death Eater could go... Voldemort can still torture us until we went insane or died. " 

"So that night after the Triwizard Tournament, that task Dumbledore sent you on... it was to go back to Voldemort wasn't it?" 

Severus steeled his features, but Harry could see the smallest cringe at that question. "That night I went back to Voldemort, I allowed Headmaster Dumbledore to enter my mind, and stay linked with me as I returned to the Dark Lord..." 

Harry didn't miss the slightest gesture on his father's stoic features. "You went back to Voldemort thinking he was going to kill you, didn't you?" 

Severus nodded as he led Harry back to the bed, hoping that the boy would be sufficiently tired enough to give him a moment's peace from this seemingly endless line of questioning. He really hated discussing these matters with anyone, especially the matter of his return to Voldemort. 

Yet somehow, he felt compelled to confide in his beloved preborn angel, as he had done many times in those long years that he believed his angel to have been denied life. Severus had spoken to his lost angel when he felt most alone. Now that the angel was in the world, and staring at him with eyes very much like his Lily's, Severus found that he was obliged to answer. "Both Headmaster Dumbledore and I believed that Voldemort would have had me killed upon my return for my spying in the past. That is why I allowed him to cast a legilimens spell on me. That way, I could perform my spying activities one last time for the order. Because my death would be slow and painful, I could allow Dumbledore to learn as much as possible from the information I garnered..." 

"While Voldemort slowly killed you?" Harry screamed, as Severus shrunk one of his own nightshirts for Harry to wear. "DUMBLEDORE KNOWINGLY SENT YOU TO YOUR DEATH!" 

"I was damned either way! If I did not return, Voldemort would have searched for me, and had me killed the moment I set foot out of Hogwarts anyway! By feigning loyalty, and crawling back to Voldemort at one of their meetings, at least I'd be able to gather information that could help the order before my death. Either way, I believed my death was imminent." 

"SO THAT'S ALL YOU THINK ABOUT YOURSELF!" Harry cried, pausing briefly to allow Severus to help him into the shrunken nightshirt. "You see yourself as only a tool for the order! Bloody Karkaroff in the first place for telling everyone at that court thing I saw in Dumbledore's pensieve that you had been a Death Eater..." 

"...You looked into Dumbledore's Pensieve!" Severus interrupted, the memories of pulling the boy out of his own Penseive searing their way back to the surface. 

"Yes, Dumbledore caught me at it." Harry replied then continued as though there had been no interruption. "Anyway, I'm really glad that Mouldyshorts didn't kill you... but why did he take you back if he knew you were a spy?" 

"Harry, it's time for you to have your nap." Severus said, practically pushing Harry onto the bed and making to leave hastily. 

Little Harry refused to relinquish Severus's hand. "If he punished you so badly the other week for just being late..." Harry's face was a mixture of horror and concern. "If he didn't kill you when you first went back, what must he have done to you for betraying him?" 

"Release me, it is time for your nap." 

"No, father." Harry moved his grip up to Severus' wrist and held fast with both hands. "Why don't you answer me?" 

"I DO NOT WISH TO DISCUSS THIS ANY FURTHER!" Severus snarled. 

"He punished you real bad, didn't he?" Harry persisted, squeezing his father's wrist now. "He took you back because he wanted you, the best potions master in Britain, creating potions for him again, didn't he? That's why on that night after you rescued me from the Dursleys, you were kept out of the meeting for the most part whilst you were making potions...cause he doesn't trust you enough to..." 

"HARRY! That is no concern of yours!" 

"Yes it is!" Harry shouted back, jumping up and wrapping his arms around Severus's slender torso. "It's my concern because you're my father!" 

"Har-" 

"I'm not finished!" Harry shouted back, shaking his father with alarming intensity. "It's my concern because I don't want MY FATHER getting hurt any more! You don't deserve to suffer like that! No one does, and I won't let you suffer any longer! I won't let you!" 

Severus turned around and sneered at Harry, who was regarding him with an equally fierce glare. Not even Lily, at the height of the worst of rages, could match it. "There is nothing that can be done to release me from the Dark Lord's service!" 

"I'll do anything to find a way! I swear! I'll break any law, and move Earth off its axis if I have to!" Harry bawled, rubbing his eyes fiercely. "You're my father! You're not Voldemort's slave or servant!" Harry's whole body wracked heavily with sobs. "I was conceived first! Before you were forced to take the mark! My father was a free man, and one of the best potion brewers in Britain. You're not a slave! You're not his slave! You're my father! YOU'RE MY FATHER!" 

Harry threw himself onto the pillows and wailed. When that wasn't enough, Harry kicked and pounded the bed beneath him. Severus watched helplessly, not knowing what, if anything, he could do for his little boy. He had never seen a child throw a tantrum before, and did not recognize his son's strange behaviour. Instinct gradually dominated, and all Severus could think to do was to gently rub the boy's back in an effort to calm him. 

Eventually, the worst of Harry's bawling subsided. The boy remained laying face down, his body trembling only slightly now. Severus knew the hospital wing would still need more potions, but for some reason, not even he could fully understand, he did not want to work on them right at that moment. He looked at his hand, still resting on the lower part of Harry's back and realized that it had not been as difficult, or as awkward as he had feared it would be. He, Severus Snape, had just comforted his own small child. The child who now depended on him. The child who loved him without reason or condition. 

After a few more minutes passed, Severus decided to continue working on the potions for the hospital wing. With his heart feeling lighter than he could ever remember it feeling before, Severus made to scoot off the bed. 

"Don't go!" Came Harry's muffled voice. 

"I have potions to brew." Severus said brusquely. 

"Can you at least stay until I'm sleeping then?" Harry implored. "Please?" 

Without understanding why, Severus removed his outer robes and lay beside Harry. The boy grinned hugely and threw an arm over his beloved father's chest, snuggling up close to him to enjoy every vestige of warmth from the man's lithe body. 

Severus found it odd that he did not find contact from his young son particularly uncomfortable. It was almost pleasant. He closed his obsidian eyes, listening to Harry's soft breathing, awaiting a sign that the boy might be asleep. 

It was Severus who actually fell asleep first. Although he feared his dreams would be filled with horrific images of the events he had just shared with Harry moments before, they were not. Instead, Severus dreamed he was navigating his way through a muggle train station, looking for that platform that would lead him to a train that would take him back to Snape Manor. On his shoulder, enjoying the ride, was Harry. 

End Part Twenty-One. 


	22. Reckless

**Remembrance and Renewal** by **Nigel Tatsuya** and ** Avatar Arkmage**  
Chapter Twenty-Two: **Reckless**

"Severus?" Albus called from within the fireplace into Severus's evidently vacant chambers. "Severus?" 

It was curious. There were potion ingredients in uncovered containers on the counters, as well as a powdery substance in one of the mortars, its pestle still partially buried in it. The spoon in the simmering caldron stirred the simmering suspension in a counterclockwise manner, although there was no sign of any one supervising its actions. There were racks full of finished potions nearby, as well as empty beakers and vials waiting to be filled. 

"Most peculiar." Headmaster Dumbledore commented to himself as he stepped through the green flames, taking in the scene before him. It was not like Professor Snape to leave his work area unattended, and would have in all likelihood tidied it if he were to leave for any length of time. The fact that the bicorn horn was only partially pulverised, indicated that someone had stopped in the middle of pounding it. Indeed, it appeared that both Severus and Harry had abandoned lab rather abruptly. 

What if Voldemort had summoned Severus? Being that Harry was stubborn by his very nature, what if Harry had somehow followed his father? 

Dumbledore walked toward the living room and found it similarly vacant. He looked to the dining area, and gasped at finding it unoccupied as well. No one was in the loo either. 

The sight that greeted the aged Headmaster when he peered into Professor Snape's bedchambers filled him with almost more relief than he could contain in silence. Severus Snape was sprawled on his bed, looking completely exhausted. On his outstretched right arm was little Harry, using the man's biceps as a pillow, and holding on to his father's torso as though for his very survival. 

Both father and son snored softly, and looked as though they were in the secure embrace of pleasant, peaceful dreams. Something both of them had been not known for many years, if ever at all. Albus closed the bedroom door silently, his eyes twinkling like twin blazars. Severus Snape would make a fine father. Little Harry surely would not allow him to be any less. 

Albus Dumbledore gathered a parcel of healing potions and left silently to take them to the medical wing.

* * *

Dr. Payne staggered through his rounds, unable to elude the unfamiliar discomfort which plagued him all day. The mysterious blast he had received whilst tending Draco earlier, could be best equated with having one's insides imploding and exploding simultaneously. Try, though he did, Dr. Payne could not understand it. All he had done, was give the pale youth a flu shot. What happened? 

'Might Draco have done it?' speculated the dazed physician. Draco did not appear to be a malicious youth, although he seemed somewhat strange, and had apparently never been hospitalized before. Indeed, with the exception of the mishap at the football game, the boy's medical records were otherwise blank. Where did he come from? And might Draco possess powers unlike any previously documented in the medical texts? 

Two nurses found Dr. Payne less than two hours later just outside the door of the paediatric burn treatment ward. Blood trickled onto the tiled floor from the physician's nose and mouth as he lay unconscious on his stomach.

* * *

Severus Snape awakened, feeling far more refreshed than he had in a long time. Were it within the capabilities of timepieces to lie, Severus would have accused his grandfather clock in his bedchambers of that very offense. It indicated that only a mere two and a half hours had passed since he had put Harry, and inadvertently himself, down for a nap. 

Yet, Severus could hardly remember when he had last had such a restful sleep. Not even during those times when he had been able to devote six to eight consecutive hours to sleep did he normally awaken feeling so rejuvenated. Today, his slumber had gone undisturbed by the low ambient temperatures of the dungeons, and unencumbered by the nightmares that ambushed him whenever he slept. Only the mirthful dreams were victorious today, and hope presided over his slow ascent to wakefulness. 

It was a tenderest grasp from a child's small hand along his side that brought Severus to full alertness. Harry, whose arm was still draped over his father's torso, exhaled contentedly in his sleep, and nestled his head on the older man's upper arm. Severus knew he had to return to making potions for the hospital wing, and would have to check on the batch of antiviral potion still in the caldron to determine if it was still usable, but found himself reluctant to leave the comfort of the bed and the pleasant warmth from Harry as the boy snuggled against him. 

He had always shrunk from direct contact with another person, yet Severus found that Harry did not make him feel the need to do so. All he wanted to do right now, was to remain right where he was. Severus, though he still doubted his abilities to be a splendid father, resolved to at least raise Harry to never fear his own father's hands. Never would he backhand Harry for making an error in judgement, nor would he strangle the boy for making a statement Severus happened to find disagreeable. 

Severus turned and looked at the boy's, yes there was no other way to describe it, angelic face and silently vowed that it would never bear the bruises his own father had forced him to wear throughout his youth. He would strive to be at least half the father he had wanted to be that day when he had first learnt of the green-eyed angel's appearance from his now spell-damaged mother. 

Leaving the exhausted child to rest longer, Severus crept out of the bed, put on his robes, and returned to the labs. 

Severus was halfway through brewing a batch of muscle relaxant when he heard the soft pounding of a mortar and pestle behind him. He turned around and was greeted by his angel's supernal grin. The boy looked refreshed and pounded the bicorn horn with an enthusiasm Severus had never witnessed in the sixteen year old Harry. This younger version of Harry seemed to revel in working with potions, and appeared to thoroughly enjoy working on them with his father.

* * *

"Doctor!" A voice called through the haze. "Doctor!" 

Dr. Payne opened his eyes. It took him several minutes to fully recognise where he was. He was on a triage table, a place he was more accustomed to standing beside, rather than being the patient being attended. He tried to sit up, but was forcibly restrained by two nurses. 

"Are you feeling up to talking?" The Trauma Surgeon asked, adjusting the oxygen mask over his colleague's face. 

Dr. Payne nodded, wondering where he ought to start, for he was entirely confused. The last thing he remembered before waking in the urgent care ward, was seeing to several young patients who had been severely burned in a terrorist attack at a nearby train station earlier that day. Dr. Payne lambasted himself inwardly, how could he, one who always thought himself as proficient and competent in his duties, faint just from treating burn victims? 

"Try not to move," The Trauma Surgeon warned, gently restraining Dr. Payne as he tried to rise. "You've sustained extensive contusions to the inside of your chest cavity and at least twenty-five percent of your alveolar sacs have been ruptured...bilaterally." 

"WHAT!" Dr. Payne rasped. 

"You injuries are highly unusual." The Trauma Surgeon stated, palpating the confused physician's abdominal region. "Tell us what happened."

* * *

After about three and half hours, Severus noticed that the chopping behind him became slow and laboured. The boy was once again becoming fatigued. Determining that they had made enough potions that day, Severus began packing the unused ingredients into clean containers. 

"You have done well," Severus commended awkwardly, though feeling genuinely proud of Harry's proficiency in preparing potion components. "You may prepare for dinner now, I will conclude matters in here." 

Harry watched for a while, as his father ladled the remaining potions into the appropriate phials, stoppered them, and spelled the work area clean. " 'Kay, I'll have my bath now." 

Severus nodded as he positioned the cleansed caldrons back to their storage places. When he returned to the main area of the lab a few minutes later, he was shocked to find little Harry there as well, sans clothing. 

"Harry, exactly why are you sauntering starkers into the lab?" 

"Uhm... can you help me bathe?" Harry asked bluntly. 

"Were you a true five or six year old, I would not hesitate to assist you," Severus replied more harshly than he intended, labelling the vials in his immaculate scrawl, "but you are indeed a sixteen year old, surely you already know how to..." 

"But I can't. Look at my hand!" Harry whimpered, his eyes watering. He held his hand as close to Severus's face as he could, giving Severus a clear view of the lacerations on his small fingertips. 

"Harry! What happened?" 

"Remember that day when I tried to help Madam Pomfrey and Dr. Chang heal you? Since I have the Interven...Interval...Inter..." 

"Interventio Interferus?" 

"Yes, that's it. Since I had that in my blood, when I tried to heal you, my fingers got these cuts." 

"You were preparing potion ingredients all day!" Severus yelled, noting that they looked very irritated, and two of the larger lacerations were bleeding. "Why did you not tell me!" 

"Because they didn't hurt as much during the day." Harry began crying in earnest. "I probably was too happy to be working with you to feel the pain as much, but when I washed my hands a few moments ago, it hurt so much!" 

Severus choked, Harry's mannerisms once again reminding him of his own. The boy had completed all his tasks in the lab, and hadn't complained about his hand once. Sure, the elk hide gloves protected his hands from direct contact with any irritating substance, but surely his injuries would have ached after all those hours of repetitive motion. 

"Very well," Severus nodded, berating himself for speaking so harshly. "I'll bathe you, allow me to finish cleaning the work area." 

Severus cast a few cleaning spells on the floors and on the counter tops when he noticed that Harry was still standing there and still very naked. "Harry, why did you come out here starkers?" 

"Because my clothes were dirty." Harry replied simply, shifting his weight back and forth on his tiny feet. "I didn't want to put the dirty clothes back on. And because I haven't had my bath, I'm too dirty to put on clean clothes. And besides, your clothes have so many buttons, I'd probably end up doing them wrong again." Upon noticing that his father avoided looking in his direction, Harry quickly added, "Well gee, I'm a little kid. It's not like I have hair down below or anything like that to hide yet, now do I?" 

Severus shrugged, he was bereft of suitable responses. How could children, with their limited reasoning capabilities and lack of understanding of the world, render him utterly speechless?

* * *

"We might have evidence of psychic energy, and what damage can be done..." One of the physicians, who was on duty in the Trauma Department, stated into the mouthpiece of the telephone. 

"Don't be too hasty." Professor Hopkirk retorted. "Our advice would be to investigate this further. This could be evidence of psychic energy, but the same could be caused by sophisticated weapon's technology." 

The physician explained the whole case to the University Researcher, carefully giving out details while preserving the privacy of the all involved. 

"Keep us informed." Professor Hopkirk said at last, hanging up the phone. She walked over to the fireplace and summoned a pair of wizards in auror robes and ordered the pair to get to the hospital immediately and conduct a thorough investigation.

* * *

Taking several deep breaths beforehand, Severus led Harry toward his bathroom. He wasn't really nervous, but was extremely uncomfortable with the thought of the task he was about to do. This was the famous Harry Potter, saviour of the Wizarding world, resident celebrity and the-boy-who-lived, after all. 

Then again, this little boy was his son, his charge, and his little angel now flesh. Assisting with their child's personal hygiene was something parents did until their children could adequately accomplish the task on their own, wasn't it? 

It had not been nearly as difficult as Severus had feared. Severus went to his private stores, and selected some non-magical herbs with anti-inflammatory and analgesic properties. Then, after removing his frock coat and rolling up his sleeves, he knelt beside the tub. He used his elbow to gauge the temperature of the water, and filled the bathtub for Harry. Severus then ground the herbs, added some to the bath water, and dissolved the remainder in a small bowl of warm water, which he set in a holder beside the tub for Harry to soak his injured hand in. 

"Thanks, Father." Harry said, fully enjoying both his father's ministrations, and the comforting sensation of whatever 'potion' his hand was immersed in. Although his hand had ached with every stroke of his knife, scrape of his grater and crunch of his pestle, as he was preparing potion's ingredients throughout the day, Harry had learned from years of experience to hide any pain he had been feeling. The herbal water Severus had prepared was so soothing that Harry entertained the thought of soaking his hand in it all night. 

Severus knelt beside the tub, and began washing Harry with a soft washcloth and mild soap. He took care not to rub too hard over the bruised areas of his small body, and gently patted over the boy's cuts. Harry relished the solace of being cared for by a loving parent. All during his early childhood, Aunt Petunia or Uncle Vernon had plunged Harry in bath water that was usually too cold, or sometimes too hot, washing him as hastily as humanly possible and tossing him out of the bathroom in a damp towel, often whilst he still had soap in his eyes, on his body, or in his hair. 

"Lean back." Severus instructed, holding out a hand to support the boy's head. 

Harry did as he was told, and Severus poured water into the boy's hair. Having never had short hair in his life, Severus added too much shampoo to Harry's hair, then proceeded to work it into a very heavy lather, with some of it dripping into Harry's eyes. To Severus' surprise, Harry didn't cry out, or even make to rinse away the caustic substance. "I apologise..." Severus hurriedly opened the tap, dampened a clean washcloth and dabbed at Harry's eyes. 

"It's quite all right," Harry said, relieved that he could open his eyes without them stinging again. "You're probably not used to washing some one else's hair. Especially some one with short hair. I'll bet you had longish hair all your life, didn't you?" 

Severus nodded. His parents had always had his hair cut to shoulder length, and depending on how long it was allowed to grow thereafter, it could sometimes reach his waist. As an adult, he kept his hair in more or less the same way, cutting it only when it grew long enough for the ends to come dangerously close to the surface of a potion. 

"I got shampoo in Dudley's eyes all the time when I had to wash his hair when he was sick." Harry said, as his father rinsed his hair. "I think I had to do it like six or seven times before I did it right.' 

Severus felt relief at that, and vowed to do better next time. ''Wait,' he thought. Was he actually thinking that he was going to give his son a bath again? Of course he would have to, the boy's hand was lacerated. 

"Do you wish to get dressed or would you rather remain in the tub whilst I have my shower?" Severus asked, starting to unbutton his white shirt. 

"It's nice here, I'll stay in the tub until you get done." Harry replied, really wanting to stay close to his only remaining parent. 

Severus unstoppered the drain. Once it was emptied, he proceeded to fill it again, using his elbow as before to make sure the water temperature was neither too hot, nor too cold. He added a small amount of moisturizing oils to the water this time, and upon noticing that Harry had nothing to occupy himself with, he took out a few bars of coloured soap from a cabinet nearby and summoned a small carving knife. 

"WOW!" Harry said, watching in wonder as Severus quicky carved a water dragon out of the transparent green bar of soap. "How did you learn to do that?" 

"Your Grandmother taught me," Severus replied after several minutes of intense carving. He then picked up an opaque blue bar of soap and carved it into what appeared to be a muggle battleship. "She used to make me bath toys in the same manner." 

"Oh my gosh!" Harry said, putting the dragon into the water. "It floats!" 

"I would not make soap that failed to float. If one of the more dunderheaded prefects were to drop their soap into the large bath, floating soap would more easily be retrieved." 

"Floating soap is really clever!" Harry commented as he eagerly pushed the ship through the water. "I wonder why all soap doesn't float?" 

"Incidentally, it was a muggle who first made floating soap." Severus said, somewhat distracted, quickly turning a transparent pink bar into a giant squid. "Quite by accident so I've been told. It turns out that some one in a muggle soap factory left one of the churns running when they went home for the night. When the workers returned the next day, they made that batch into soap and discovered that it floated." 

"So you made these soaps the same accident way?" Harry asked. 

"Yes, I intentionally make soap duplicating the conditions of the accident." Severus said, handing Harry a black whale. 

"So where did you learn to make accident floating soap so well?" Harry asked, making the giant squid rise out of the water, thereby ''scaring' the ''soldiers' aboard the battleship. 

Severus nearly jabbed the knife into his thumb. "Your grandfather...I often watched him as he worked." Severus replied brusquely, throwing a marbled red and yellow fish into the tub, and quickly standing up. Just mentioning his father cast his parenting skills into question once more, and Severus quickly made his way over to the shower and began disrobing in haste. 

Harry was confused. He could not understand why Severus had left so suddenly. Harry was about to ask if anything was the matter, but Severus opened the taps fully in the shower, the sound of the water hitting the tiles drowning out anything that Harry would have said. Harry watched as Severus finished removing his clothes, and noticed that the man's normally steady hands were trembling as he undid his many buttons.

* * *

"Where's Dr. Pain?" Draco asked upon seeing a female physician enter the room with his chart in her small hands. 

"He's not feeling well." The doctor sighed. "I'm Dr. Gasket. I'll be tending you while Doctor Payne is out." 

Draco nodded, and groaned at the name of the new physician. Apparently after patients died from the treatment of medical staff with names like Pain, Assault, and Slaughter, they'd need to be put in a Casket. If Draco didn't find his situation so scary, it would almost be funny. 

He had to admit though, Dr. Pain reminded him of a really nice doctor on the ER show who was somewhat young and inexperienced, but was a good doctor just the same. For a muggle, Dr. Pain was not a bad fellow after all. In fact, all the staff at the muggle hospital had been very kind to him, and despite their strange treatments, appeared to do everything in their power to make him feel comfortable as his body healed under it's own power. 

"I'm going to change the dressings on your wounds now." Dr. Gasket said upon completing her examination. She took out some gauze and tape from the cabinet along the wall. 

"Uh...Doctor Casket?" 

"Yes?" 

Draco pulled up the hem of his hospital gowns, showing the doctor the bright green bandage, which was printed with smiling cats, that Dr. Pain had put over his injection wound. "Can I have bandages like these?" 

Indeed, the only reason Dr. Payne had given Draco that bandage in the first place was because he had been stunned by the magical blast, and hadn't been thinking very clearly. Dr. Gasket could not understand why this teenaged boy would want to wear cartoon bandages usually preferred by very small children, but took out rolls of colourful surgical tape, gauze and printed bandages anyway. 

Dr. Gasket looked at her handiwork when she was done. Draco, who otherwise appeared pale with his nearly colourless skin, almost white hair and white hospital gown, was indeed colourful to look upon now. He had chosen Sailor Moon, Pokemon, Wallace and Gromit and Hinky Punks bandages for his smaller injuries, and selected bright surgical tapes and gauze to dress his larger injuries. Dr. Gasket thought he looked silly, but in an extraordinarily cute way. Draco reminded her of an almost adult-sized child. Perhaps the boy retained a larger quantity of his innocence than most? 

When Draco hobbled over to the loo and looked in the mirror after the doctor left, he thought he looked cool. Parkinson and Bulstrode would find him irresistible for sure, and Crabb, Zabini and Goyle would be jealous. He would not be at all surprised if they feigned injuries for the mere opportunity of wearing such lovely dressings.

* * *

"Captain!" little Harry spoke in a ditzy, very nasal voice. "There's a giant squid off the port bow!" 

"Hard to starboard!" Harry ordered in as raspy and gruff a voice as he could manage. 

"It's chasing us!" Harry yelled in the navigation officer's nasal voice again. 

"Then shoot it!" Harry ordered in the Captain's voice. "Main guns firing on my mark! 5-4-3-2-1 MARK!" 

Harry moved the giant squid in the opposite direction, "aaaaah ahhhh!" 

"Hey!" Harry said, in an almost cartoon character-like voice as he brought the whale up to the back of the battleship. "Whacha do to my friend?" 

"The same thing we shall do to you if you don't go away!" Harry said in the deep voice. 

"RWAAAAAR!" Harry said, bringing the water dragon to the surface directly in front of the battleship. 

"Aaaaaaay!" Harry made the terrified crew say. 

Severus watched Harry play as he blotted his long hair with a towel. The hapless seafarers continued to bungle their way through waters infested with magical creatures. Harry had an incredible imagination, and their adventures, or rather misadventures, grew more complicated by the minute. To make the drama even more interesting, Harry even gave each saponified player its own unique voice. 

Harry eventually noticed his father kneeling beside the bathtub, watching the 'play' in silence. Severus leaned his damp-haired head over the tub and watched as Harry sent the yellow and red fish in pursuit of the fleeing sailors. In his own voice, Harry turned to Severus and said. "Thank you so much! This is fun! You're the greatest father in the world, father!" 

Although residual doubts still plagued him, the look of unalloyed adoration, esteem and love in Harry's eyes convinced him that he was at least an adequate parent. As far as little Harry was concerned, Severus was the best.

* * *

The number of patients remaining in the infirmary dwindled further with each succeeding day, in part, due to the ample supply of healing potions at hand. Less than a week before, Madam Pomfrey issued the healing potions sparingly, as they were already in short supply and she had no idea when the hospital wing would be receiving more. With Professor Snape back in commission, the potions were quickly back in surplus. 

By the end of that week, Dr. Ayame Chang and the rest of the relief crew from St. Mungos were able to leave Hogwarts. 

Only YiChung Chang, who had not responded to any of the healing potions, or the medical staff's interventions, and was not strong enough to be moved, remained. 

The elderly wizard's breathing was very laboured today, and Cho could only watch over her grandfather helplessly as his human heart struggled to keep his massive body adequately supplied with enough oxygenated blood. YiChung would only awaken for a few minutes at a time now, and spoke very little when he did. 

"Grandpa Chang?" Harry asked when the man awakened again. 

The elderly wizard was somewhat startled by the pair of bright green eyes peering at him from just over the edge of the railings of the bed. "Oh hello, Harry." YiChung said weakly as he reached over to his tray table for the bright red box on the surface. "Have an almond cookie with me?" 

Harry thanked the elderly wizard, and clambered onto Cho's lap to munch on the confection. YiChung took one as well, but could no longer sit up to eat it, so he merely nibbled on it as he remained on his back. "How are you feeling, Grandpa Chang?" 

"I'm feeling every bit my..." The chestnut-brown eyed wizard stopped as if to count. "...147 years today, unfortunately. Be sure that no one hexes you whilst you're transforming." 

"We'll be careful, grandfather..." Cho said, starting to cry once more. With her beloved grandfather weakening each day, she wept often, unable to do anything to help him, short of comforting him with her mere presence. 

"Aww," Harry said, finishing his cookie and turning around to hug his one-time love interest. When that only made her break down even more, Harry patted her long, glossy hair. Not even that seemed to help. 

"Where is your father today, Harry?" YiChung asked, looking as though he were about to cry from watching Cho. 

Harry answered without thinking. "He's in the dungeon making potions again. I couldn't help him with any of it today because all the ingredients are magical, and because I got the Intervent– uh.. Intervento...uh..." 

"Interventio Interferous?" Cho asked in a broken voice. 

"Yeah." Harry said, turning around and facing YiChung again. "Because I got that potion in my body, I can't do any magic or be around any magic because it could blow me up or something." 

YiChung merely nodded, a faint smile on his pale features, while Cho's jaw proverbially hit the floor. Did Harry just say his father was in the dungeons making potions! But Harry's father was killed...or was he? James Potter wasn't a potions master... 

Surely Harry can't mean Professor Snape? But then, who else would be making potions in the dungeons of Hogwarts? 

"So father told me I could go and play so long as I don't do any magic or anything else I'm not supposed to." Harry went on. "So I wanted to come visit you and Cho." 

"Harry, did you just say your father was making potions in the dungeons?" Cho asked, the colour still conspicuously missing from her face. 

"Uh huh." Harry replied, gratefully munching on a second almond cookie. 

"Professor Snape!" Cho asked in disbelief. 

"Uh huh... Oh no! I wasn't supposed to tell anyone that he's my father!" Harry covered his mouth with his free hand. "Don't tell anyone okay, Cho and Grandpa Chang? Father and I could get hurt if anyone bad finds out about it." 

"Of course...of course!I won't tell." Cho said, still looking like she was in shock. 

"Your secret is safe." YiChung said in a gentle voice. "One's family is above all else, most precious. We'll not say anything to jeopardize yours." 

"Hang on," Harry said. "You referred to Professor Snape as my father...before we told anyone. How did you know?" 

"It was easy, for I am a father myself, and a grandfather." YiChung replied, looking very sleepy. "I know how a father looks at his children, Professor Snape looked at you in precisely that way." 

YiChung's eyes twinkled as he listened to Harry explain, using all the detail a child normally would utilise, how he had come to find his father after so many years. He strained to stay awake to hear the boy's tale, for he was fond of stories told by very young children. Alas, his body rebelled. Just when Harry explained how he had turned into a small child again, YiChung once more succumbed to unconsciousness. 

Cho covered her face and began sobbing, both because of Harry's years deprived of parental love and because of her own grandfather, and how his years were apparently coming to an end. Harry, not knowing what else to do, threw his arms around Cho and just held her as she wept. He remembered how his father had consoled him a few nights before, and rubbed Cho's back in the same way, hoping it would make her feel better. 

It worked after a few minutes. Hopefully he would find a way to keep her cheered up. "Come on Cho, I wanna show you something!"

* * *

Severus was not a man who would normally panic, and he was not panicking now, although this was near enough to it. He ran into empty classrooms, perused secret passages, darted through all known common areas, and even looked in the dark and dank room that held the Mirror of Erised. Harry was no where to be found in the virtually deserted castle. 

"Child?" Headmaster Dumbledore inquired, appearing seemingly out of nowhere behind Professor Snape in the Astronomy Tower. "What is wrong, Severus?" 

Severus pushed past Albus and looked in every direction before answering. "Harry's gone." 

"What do you mean, child?" 

Severus snarled. "Harry does not seem to be anywhere in the castle!" 

"Have you tried looking on the grounds?" Dumbledore replied in his more matter-of-a-fact voice. 

"He should have known better than to go outside!" Severus shouted as ran down the stairs, taking them three to four at a time. "Why would he be outside anyhow? He is unable to ride his broom." 

Severus charged across the grounds to the Quidditch Pitch, notwithstanding, and saw that Harry was indeed riding his Firebolt. Or more accurately, Cho was riding Harry's Firebolt... with Harry strapped to her back with a crude harness made from the sash of her robes. No part of Harry's body came in contact with the magical object. 

"Nose-dive! Nose-dive!" Little Harry shouted, holding on tightly to Cho's shoulders and bracing himself. 

"Are you sure?" Cho asked, checking the integrity of the sash binding the little boy to herself. "This Firebolt is much faster than my broom..." 

"Come on, Cho." Harry pleaded, wrapping his arms just under Cho's breasts. "You can do it! It'll be fun!" 

Cho executed a move that would have stopped any parent's heart. She took the Firebolt in what appeared to be a freefall at top speed from the level of the highest goal post straight to the ground. When she was less than metre from the ground, she pulled the nose of the broom up and ascended so rapidly that Severus estimated that their bodies were subjected to at least two Gs of force. 

Before the two seekers could possibly have recovered from the ascent, Cho executed a series of loops and banked on a turn so steep that both she and Harry were riding sideways. Cho then went into two full rolls before barrelling at another non-existent snitch, which Harry also reached for. 

"Show me some more! Show me what you can do!" Harry shouted. 

"More!" Cho gasped. 

"Well you're a seeker too, just like me." Harry said, his tiny hands brushing lightly over Cho's nipples as he held her more securely. "Ah, but you're a Ravenclaw, you probably don't do many stunts, Ravenclaws are not brave after all." 

Cho's cheeks went red at Harry's innocent contact, then a burst of inspiration hit her. "You think just because I'm a Ravenclaw I'm not brave?" 

"Well, your house has people who are smart and all." Harry said, hoping that Cho would see this as a challenge and do something really cool. "But that means that you people play it safe and don't do stunts. And Gryffindors are brave, not Ravenclaws." 

"You think I can't do stunts?" 

"Well...uh...uh..." Harry thought. "No." 

"I'll bet I can!" 

"I'll bet you can't!" 

"Can so!" 

"Can not!" 

"Can so!" 

"Can not!" 

"Can so!" 

"Can not!" 

"Can so!" 

"Can not!" 

"Very well, Harry," Cho huffed, looking over her shoulder at the young boy. "...hang on! I'll show you something worthy of a Ravenclaw seeker." 

"Yaaaaaay!" 

Withdrawing her wand from its holster on her leg, Cho did what appeared to be calculations in the air before her. Harry recognized the figures as a physics equation, calculating both velocity and gravitational pull. When Cho seemed satisfied, she turned back. "Ready Harry?" 

"Oh yes yes yes yes yes!" Harry said, jumping up and down within his harness. 

Cho fired her wand, causing a bright spherical energy field to appear a quarter of the way across the field, and several metres above the ground. After checking once more that Harry was bound securely to her, she accelerated and carefully stood up on the broom and walked backwards until her tiny feet were inches from the twigs which formed the broom's bristles. Balancing on the broom, she did a final calculation. Then, she gave the broom a firm kick, sending it careening toward the force field and causing her and Harry to plummet toward the ground, having nothing supporting them. 

The broom rocketed toward the energy field, as though it were going to plunge into it. As Cho had predicted, the angle of the kick sent the broom to the field's periphery, its gravitational force causing the broom to slingshot around the object and sending it back to the precise trajectory Cho and Harry were plummeting. 

Cho almost missed the broom altogether, but managed to grab it's handle before it passed. Harry had never done giant swings before, so it was both terrifying and incredibly exciting to be on Cho's back as the speed of their fall forced her to execute three full giant swings before she could pull both herself and Harry back onto the broom. 

"Waaaah! Waaah! AAAAAH!" Harry buried his face in Cho's soft hair and bawled. The little boy had been literally horror-struck. 

"Aw...Harry I'm so sorry." Cho said, reaching back and patting the boy's head. "Did you get hurt?" 

Harry shook his head and continued whimpering. 

"You wanted me to do a stunt, but I didn't mean to scare you..." Cho said, slowing the broom slightly and reaching back to hug the frightened boy. 

"THAT WAS GREAT!" Harry screamed, squeezing Cho's torso so firmly that she temporarily couldn't draw a breath. He was still sobbing when he continued. "Do it again! That was so GREAT! Do it Again! Again!" 

Although Severus had seen many horrific things in his life, this was arguably the worst of them all. He had seen enough, if Cho and Harry didn't cause themselves to lose consciousness with their suicidal seeker manoeuvres, at the very least, Cho would be washing the undigested contents of Harry's stomach out of her hair in the very near future. He tried calling out to the two house seekers, but could not be heard over Harry's excited squeals. Severus grabbed a school broom and kicked off, determined to give the reckless pair an earful. End Part Twenty-Two 


	23. The Muggle Factor

**Remembrance and Renewal** by **Nigel Tatsuya** and **Avatar Arkmage**  
Chapter Twenty-Three **The Muggle Factor**

"Dr. Casket?" Draco asked the doctor as she entered the room. "Where is Dr. Pain?" 

Dr. Gasket sighed. "Dr. Payne is still not feeling well, I'll be attending you until then." 

"Why doesn't he give himself a floo shot?" Draco asked. 

"Flu shots only are only work before one becomes ill," Dr. Gasket explained. 

"So when you're already sick, you have to let your body get better on its own?" 

"Yes, I'm afraid so." 

"He can't take a potion?" Draco asked, as he heard an additional knock on his door. 

"A potion? Oh! You mean a medication?" Dr. Gasket said as she did her assessment. "Well there are medicines you can take to make yourself feel better when you're sick, but the flu itself will have to run its course. We can't cure that yet." 

Draco was very tempted to tell this muggle healer that the Pepper-up potion could make quick work of the flu, but thought better of it. The knocking at the door resumed. "Aren't you gonna answer the door, Dr. Casket?" 

Dr. Gasket hastily finished her work on Draco then ambled to the door. A group of muggles in suits and younger muggles in casual wear waved. "Are you Draco Malfoy?" a particularly enthusiastic middle-aged man inquired. 

"Yes, I am. And who are you mu- people? More healers?" 

"Us?" the man asked. "Oh no, I'm Professor Lou Bracken from Psychic Research Department of the University Hospital, and these are some of my students. May we visit with you for a while?" 

Not wanting to indulge the filthy muggles, but being without so much as a house elf to occupy his time, Draco found that he desired company. These muggles seemed harmless enough. He turned to the group and nodded. 

Dr. Gasket protested initially, but at Draco's insistence, she warned the group not to exhaust or distress Draco in any way and left to continue her rounds. The Professor and his students all exchanged greetings with Draco, and presented him with gifts of muggle confections, strange disk like objects with even stranger looking people on the cases, and books. Draco did not recognize many of the objects, but refrained from asking what they were. He could at least smell the chocolate in some of the parcels. 

"Draco," the Professor began, kneeling beside the narrow bed. "Are you familiar with psychic phenomena?" 

This time Draco couldn't help but stare blankly at the balding, bespectacled man . "No, could you explain, Professor Lubricant?" 

"Certainly!" Professor Lou Bracken said, seating himself in the chair beside Draco's bed.

* * *

"Mind your hands Harry!" Cho gasped with a face at least as red at any Weasley's hair. 

"HUH? What?" Harry asked, his hands over two fleshy bumps. He gasped when he realised where his hands were and quickly lowered them to Cho's diaphragm. "Oh, I'm really sorry about that. I didn't hurt you, did I?" 

Cho concluded from Harry's tone that the touch was innocent in nature. He probably lacked those accursed teenage hormones that made him seem almost boorish in the past besides. "No, you didn't hurt me...not at all." Cho inhaled deeply, her cheeks turning redder still. "In fact, I'm feeling up for more stunts. You?" 

"Yay!" Harry cheered, as Cho took the Firebolt to velocities that were probably breaking some sort of law. 

It was in the middle of performing an inverted super loop that Harry noticed a dark, shadowy blur encroaching from the North end of the Quidditch pitch. Because Cho was looping at such a high speed, Harry had trouble focussing on the newcomer, but he could discern that the figure was wearing black robes that billowed like a storm cloud around it. 

"Cho!" Harry called. "Someone's coming!" 

"What?" Cho responded, leaning to her left to negotiate a hard turn. "I wonder who else could be out here with us? I thought with all the patients gone, there would be no other students here until the fall?" 

"I don't believe it's a student." Harry wrapped his arms tightly around Cho's chest, his tiny hands inadvertently brushing against her delicate breasts once more. "It's a Professor! Aah! It's father!" 

Cho was too frightened at Professor Snape's dark expression to admonish Harry for the innocent contact again. 

Compared to the Firebolt, the antiquated Shooting Star Severus rode appeared to have been stationary in midair. Cho threw the unbreakable braking charm on the Firebolt, and reversed course until she and Harry were aligned with Severus. 

"You are to land at once." Severus instructed, the anger within him barely in check. 

Severus swooped dangerously close to the errant pair, prompting Cho to descend rapidly, the Firebolt looking as though it were doing a defective parody of a celestial body knocked well within the proverbial Roche Radius of a planet with a particularly strong gravitational pull. 

Once on the ground, Severus threw the Shooting Star back into the school broom shed and marched up to the pair, who were having trouble dismounting the Firebolt due to Cho's trembling legs. At the sight of Professor Snape's fully bared, discoloured teeth, Cho drew back even further. Neither Harry nor Cho could remember a time when Professor Snape had looked more incensed. Harry frightfully noted that his father's cheeks were rivalling his Uncle Vernon's, the only difference was that Snape's face displayed the entire gamut of crimsons as opposed to the spectrum of purples customarily sported by the livid Vernon Dursley. Cho continued to backpedal rapidly with Harry still bound securely to her back, until she tripped over her own robes and landed on her backside. 

"Miss Chang," Severus began silkily, spraying Cho's now exposed legs with fine droplets of saliva as he leaned over her fallen form. "Your behaviours were most appalling! You've not only endangered yourself, but the life of another student. I would have expected actions such as those from supercilious Gryffindors, who have less intelligence than conceit." 

"I- I'm s-sorry Professor Snape." Cho said, her voice unsteady with trepidation as she scooted away from the towering professor. "I shouldn't have done what I did. It was really stupid of me to do something so dangerous and... AAAYYY!" 

Professor Snape dropped to the ground and regarded Cho and Harry in turn with a malevolent glare. Having a foothold now, Harry climbed out of his harness and backed away from his father as well. At the moment, Harry was truly afraid of him. He wasn't even sure that Severus wouldn't beat him...or both of them for that matter. "I'm sorry fa-Professor Snape. Please don't be angry at us, we were just having fun..." 

"If your idea of fun is to adorn the quidditch pitch with your spattered internal organs, might I suggest you find an alternate pursuit?" Severus sneered. "If this had occurred during the school session, be assured I would not hesitate to deduct house points from both of you and assign you detentions for the next month if you weren't expelled for your sheer stupidity!" 

"I'm sorry sir. It was all my fault..." Cho mewled, still trembling violently. She backed away further, her robes riding up enough to expose her blue and gold knickers, which featured animated cats who also seemed to be cowering from Professor Snape. 

"Mr. Potter," Severus admonished. "Are you so arrogant that even in your undeveloped, and immature state you still feel the need to show off?" 

"N-no, sir. I wasn't trying to be arrogant." 

"One who is already arrogant by his very nature need not try! Mr Potter, are you so desperate for any kind of attention that you employ your friends to show off for you when you yourself cannot do so on your own?" Severus recommenced. "Miss Chang, have you no more sense than a vainglorious Gryffindor? You do realize that you've endangered the life of another student as well as your own?" 

"Professor Snape," it almost hurt to call his father by his proper title, "please don't be m-mad at Cho," little Harry whimpered shakily. "I teased her about how Ravenclaws are really smart, but aren't brave at all. And I made fun of them for how they can't do stunts and all. I made her do this to prove me wrong." 

"Sir, Harry didn't force me to do those stunts. I did them on my own accord, I was the one who was showing off." Cho said, still too shaken to right herself, leaving the cats on her knickers looking even more petrified with fear than they were just a few moments ago. "I so wanted to prove to him that Ravenclaw, though we've not won the House Cup in many a year, is not merely house of studious cowards. But I've foolishly risked his life...and mine. And I'm sorry, I know nothing can make up for it. Harry is such a sweet little boy, and he has such a kind heart. If anything had happened to him..." 

To make matters even worse than they already were, Cho started sobbing, which gave Harry unspoken permission to follow suit. 

"But I'm fine father...uh... Professor Snape." Harry crawled over to Severus and hugged his legs. "I know if I got hurt, I couldn't be healed. I'd have weeks of painful healing to do. Or maybe I'd have been too hurt to be healed, and maybe I would...DIE!" Harry starting wailing so hard that he could barely speak coherently. "And then I'd have to go back to being your angel son again... then I'd be so sad! I wouldn't get to hug you anymore, or talk to you, or play with the soap toys you make, or eat with you, or tell you that I love..." Harry fully broke down, as did Cho. 

The urge to strike Harry came and went like an errant breeze on the surface of Severus's thoughts. He instead shrugged away from Harry's embrace. "SILENCE! What sort of nonsense is this then? Have you gone mental?" Severus Snape was about to concoct a lie to Harry's proclamations, but said nothing when he saw that Cho did not react. Had Harry told Cho of their being father and son? 

Harry fell to the grass and hid his face in his hands. 

For at least three times in succession, Severus opened his mouth to admonish the two youths before him, but he could find nothing suitable to say. He was far more accustomed to students blaming each other for their transgressions, yet Harry and Cho were each blaming THEMSELVES outright. This was unexpected, and not right. 

Ultimately, it made little sense to lecture them on the idiocy of their actions, for both of them seemed to know the possible consequences too well. Berating them further would be unnecessary, as they were doing a fine job of it already on their own. The irony of the whole situation made Severus want to laugh. The sight of the pathetic children crying their hearts out in contrition made his own eyes water slightly. Being a man that was not very proficient at any display of emotion, Severus pondered the feasibility of doing both simultaneously. 

Severus leaned over the two recumbent students on the grass. "As you are both determined to shoulder the blame, Miss Chang, Mr. Potter, you are to report to the dungeons for detention first thing tomorrow morning." 

"Yes sir." Both of them whimpered. 

"And Miss Chang," Severus averted his eyes at the sight of the animated cats on Cho's knickers staring at him and wiping at their eyes with their paws. "In the name of decency, cover yourself." 

Cho blushed redder than Harry had guessed human cheeks could go. She had not realized that her knickers had been showing and was incredibly chagrined at the thought that Professor Snape now knew she still wore animated underwear, something younger witches and wizards did. She stood quickly and adjusted the bottom of her robes, blushing even more fiercely when she noticed that Harry was grinning at one of the cats on her hip who was in turn grinning back at him. 

"Uh...I'll be with my Grandfather if either of you need anything of me... goodbye." Cho waved shyly at Harry and bowed respectfully to Severus before sprinting back toward the castle, her blue and gold robes flying about her. 

Severus picked up Harry's Firebolt, and father and son walked side by side back to the castle. "Harry, I am very disappointed in your actions." 

Harry started wiping at his eyes and sniffling again. "I know, father. I'm so sorry. I guess I'm not only a child, I'm a stupid one as well." 

Severus' long strides quickly put him several metres in front of his son, requiring him to pause every few paces to allow Harry to catch up. "Why did you do such a foolish thing? Not only could you both have died from your reckless manoeuvres, but being outside the castle exposes you to other dangers. You were flying so close to the upper wards that you might have been seen!" 

"I know father, I shouldn't have made fun of Cho like that, it's not her fault she's so sad. I should have told her she didn't have to fly so high for me to believe that she was brave." Harry scrubbed at his eyes. "I know that it is not true that Ravenclaws are all brains and nothing more. 

"Then why..." 

Harry stopped moving. His eyes were so full of tears that he could no longer see where he was going. When Severus stopped once more to allow the boy time to catch up, the boy ambled unsteadily toward him and wrapped his arms around his waist. "Cho's grandfather is dying. No one can make him well." Harry's lower lip was trembling violently now. "Because I have a grandparent too now, I know how she must be suffering. If grandmother was dying, I couldn't bear it! I'd want to die too, just so I wouldn't have to live without her again. I love grandmother so much, and Cho...well I see how she is, and how she loves her grandfather just as much! Cho is sad because her grandfather is dying!" 

Severus looked down at the boy, who had his head buried in Severus' lower abdominal region. "I just wanted to make her smile a little. Make her not so sad, even if it was only for a little while. Now because she thinks she could have killed me, she must be even more sad than she was before." 

"Would you have me believe that you were not trying to show off?" 

"NO!" Harry screamed. "I wasn't trying to show off! Well maybe after we were flying around a bit, I wanted to show off a little, but the reason I asked Cho to come fly on my broom was because I wanted Cho to forget about being so sad, even for a little while!" 

Severus knelt beside his son and patted his back. Harry was sobbing so much that he could barely stay on his feet. He threw his arms around his father's neck both for support as well as comfort. "Why do nice people have to die anyway? Why do bad people live so long? It's not fair... It's not fair! Why can't good people be rewarded for being good by living twice as long as the bad people?" 

"I do not know." Severus lamented, attempting to free himself from his son's embrace. 

"I couldn't do anything to save mother, and my other father James." Harry bawled, the guilt in the young boy's face markedly evident. "I couldn't do anything to save Cedric, or Sirius. I just wanted to die too when I thought I had killed you last week! I deserved to die for that. I felt so sad that I couldn't do anything for you..." 

Unable to make Harry release him, Severus wrapped his long arms around Harry. He regretted scolding either of them now, and the boy was already feeling badly. Why did a mere sixteen year old have to be burdened by the weight of his own guilt? The fact that a six year old would have to also bear such a weight was unthinkable. 

"... but I'm so glad Madam Pomfrey, Dr. Chang, Fawkes and Professor Dumbledore could save you!" Harry wailed, clutching handfuls of Severus' hair. "I only wish I could have done something to help you too." 

''You've done more than you'll ever know.' Severus thought to himself, knowing that it was Harry who had attempted to save him by spelling the potion out of his body. That had nearly killed him, and could have potentially killed Harry too, but what was the act if not selfless on the boy's part? Thoughtless, yes, but selfless. 

"And Cho can't do anything for Grandpa Chang but watch him die!" Harry squeezed the fabric of his father's robes. "She must be so sad right now!" 

Whatever tirade Severus had been contemplating to hurl at Harry earlier dissolved. He was only trying to spare another person the grief he himself had experienced over and over again. Knowing that Harry was both physically and emotionally exhausted, Severus stood with Harry held securely in his arms. 

"Oh father!" Harry said, resting in head on Severus' shoulders and wrapping his legs around his torso. The feeling of being carried, filling him with more comfort than he had ever known before. "If I knew how to make a potion that would make good people immortal, I would make enough for every kind person in the world to give to the people they love." Harry smiled once more when Severus resumed walking toward the castle, still holding him in his arms. "And you know who I would give that first phial of potion to?" 

Severus lifted Harry onto his shoulder as he started to walk faster. "Who?" 

"You, of course." Harry wrapped his arm around his father's head. "And I'd make sure you drank all of it, because of all the lives you saved by risking your own life. You probably earned a billion years to live. And I'd also make sure you drink all of it because I love you so much." 

Had anyone offered Severus a chance at immortality a month ago, he would have thought it a damnation rather than a gift. More years of life had been synonymous with more years of torture, stress, perilous employment and grief. Now at least, Severus would consider more years to be a mixed blessing. He would still endure the same baneful existence, but somehow, With Harry, it was a little more bearable. 

No, Harry did NOT just make life bearable. Severus found that Harry made him feel useful. No, much more than useful. Perhaps he felt worthwhile now... 

And he felt loved. For the first time in years, he felt loved again, and he could not explain to himself why he deserved it. Try as he might, reasons eluded him. Then again, Lily had loved him in much the same manner, without clear reasons. Without Severus's deserving an iota of it. 

After how cruel Severus had been to Harry over the years... and how he had unintentionally denied Harry the chance at growing up with a caring parent ... How could Harry still want to give him the gift of immortality? How could the boy love him? 

Somewhere deep in his consciousness, Severus knew that his death would not be too far in the future. With the war escalating, and Voldemort becoming ever more tyrannous, he knew his time was nearly at an end. 

Silently, Severus begged whatever power or deity that might have been listening for just a little more time. Time for Harry to be old enough to inherit and manage property. Time for him to teach Harry things he would need to know to succeed in life. Time for him to pass on some of the knowledge a parent passes on to a child...about one's heritage, about one's traditions, and about one's values. Finally, Severus asked for a little more time with Harry for its own sake. He paused, wondering why he would ask for something so frivolous, but could find no ready answer.

* * *

Unnoticed by the many muggle investigation units milling around the blast site, Arthur Weasley and Perkins made their way through the rubble of the railroad station at Hogsteader, a small muggle village a few kilometres outside of Hogsmeade. There had been a series of explosions at the station that morning, occurring immediately after one of the muggle lines arrived at its platform. The blasts were so damaging, that the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Department was called upon to join in the investigation. The Aurors who were initially at the scene were convinced that some one had charmed the train to destroy itself upon its arrival at Hogsteader. 

Perkins, despite coughing frequently from the clouds of dust and noxious smoke from the explosion, stubbornly pressed onward, searching the area for signatures of magic. 

"Sir," Arthur said to his boss after roughly an hour. He held a handkerchief over his nose and mouth, but gagged frequently nonetheless. His body was still convalescing from the hexes he had received just weeks ago. "There's no sign of magic in the area... or even in what remains of the train. This is a weapon of the muggles own creation." 

"Foolish warmongers!" Perkins muttered, examining what appeared to be some charred wires and the remnants of a train's steel siding. "Making weapons like these! They kill indiscriminately! Good and bad alike, even the women and children!" 

Arthur shivered as he stepped through a large puddle of blood which had some unidentifiable chunks of flesh dispersed through it. "Such a cruel thing to do indeed!" Arthur said, surveying the carnage. 

"To think you helped author the Muggle Protection Act," Perkins said, tossing a broken pipe back to the pavement after running his wand over it. "Even if there were no Death Eater loyalists to hurt the muggles, the muggles seem to find ways to hurt themselves." 

"With the exception of our own concealment charms, there are no other traces of magic in the vicinity." Tonks declared to her colleagues, near enough to Arthur and Perkins for them to hear. 

"It would appear the muggles are growing ever more ingenious with their weapons." Arthur said, feeling a familiar twinge of fascination at their resourceful, non-magical counterparts. As repulsed as he was, the muggles still amazed him. 

"They did all this without magic?" one of the new recruits gasped. 

Arthur was about to respond when he heard a soft whimpering from beneath a pile of rubble nearby. At first he thought it was nothing more than the sound of steel dragging against stone, until he saw long red hair fanning out from beneath the detritus. Upon moving closer, he was stunned to see a muggle toddler struggling feebly to free itself. 

Unable to bear watching the muggle child suffer, Arthur proceeded to levitate some of the rubble away. He quickly grew exhausted at the task, for the pieces of rubble were heavy and he was not at his full strength yet. 

"Mr. Weasley!" Tonks forestalled him. "You can't! Let the muggle paramedics help the child!" 

Arthur paused to take several deep breaths, then after determining there were no other muggles watching, Arthur cast off his concealment charm and moved closer. He knelt beside the little girl, and saw that she had been partially crushed by the weight of the steel. "Hello little one, are you all right?" 

The tiny girl looked at him with her large green eyes, her red lashes matted together by her own tears. She tried to answer, but only made a few weak groans. For a moment, Arthur was reminded of a younger version of his own daughter Ginny. Heedless of the consequences, Arthur could not turn his back on the little one's suffering, and cast a few healing charms on the toddler before any of the other witches or wizards on the scene could stop him. 

"Weasley!" chided Perkins when he saw what was transpiring. "She's a muggle! We cannot interfere in their affairs! Let the muggle healers deal with-" 

"This is more than a mere muggle affair!" With that, Arthur cast as much of the rubble aside as his weakened body would allow. Furiously, he then cast every healing charm he knew until the girl's breathing returned to some semblance of normal. At last, Arthur took off his long, tattered outer robes, spelled them warm and covered the shivering toddler with it. 

Having no energy left to stand, he eventually slumped on the pavement next to the young child. The muggle girl still could not move, but at least she seemed to be able to breathe with less pain. "Not to worry, she's just a baby," Arthur heaved, reclining on a flat chunk of concrete nearby. "She won't tell anyone about us. And even if she does, the muggles probably won't believe her. Children around her age often have imaginary friends anyway." 

The little girl turned to face Mr. Weasley and smiled as if to say ''thank you.' 

"I'll be nothing more than an imaginary friend to her." Arthur said, slowly catching his breath.

* * *

"Bloody warlike, muggles!" Severus thought to himself later that evening. He added a dollop of bland shampoo base to his wet hair and worked it through so vigorously that he ended up forming stubborn knots and snarls that would probably need to be cut rather than combed out. 

Although he had managed to hide all traces of it from Harry, Severus was in a very foul mood. Reckless Quidditch manoeuvres aside, it was not what gnawed at him most at the moment. 

Severus had wanted to take Harry to Snape Manor. Because Harry could not travel via magical means, and using the Knight bus would have attracted too much attention to themselves, Severus had purchased tickets on the muggle railway to London. From there, they could find alternate muggle transportation to the rural area outside of Hammersmith, where Snape Manor was located. 

The news article depicting the bombing of the train station had angered him greatly. The enchanted picture on the front page of the Daily Prophet showed the smoking pile of rubble which had once been the station in Hogsteader, the muggle town just outside of Hogsmeade. The station where Severus and Harry would have boarded the train to London. 

Now, he could not take Harry to the home that would one day be rightfully his. In the very near future, if Voldemort continued his descent into tyranny and killed Snape, Harry would be the rightful lord of Snape Manor. Although Severus had no desire to reside at Snape Manor himself, he knew Harry should not be denied the chance to see what he would someday inherit. Knowing that Voldemort could easily kill Severus in the near future, he really wanted to show Harry the manor...before he died. 

After pulling chunks of his hair out in an unsuccessful attempt to untangle it, Severus stepped out of the shower, and began wiping his long hair with a heavy towel. He looked over to the bathtub, wondering what kind of misadventures Harry had managed to get the soap merpeople, the water mocassin, and the Loch Ness creature into. He was rather surprised to see Harry staring at him, absently twirling the water mocassin within the tiny fingers of his uninjured hand. 

"What? Why are you staring at me?" Severus asked, suddenly feeling self-conscious when Harry did not look away. He held the towel over his groin. "Surely I have nothing you yourself do not already have?" 

"I was just thinking." Harry began, still looking at his father's body. "You're a pureblood right?" 

Severus, who was already uncomfortable at Harry's unwavering gaze, could not answer. "Your point?" 

"Well, I noticed that other than the fact that you have a whole lot of scars and your skin and hair is a different colour," Harry began, looking with pity at the many pinkish-silvery marks which riddled his father's body," well, uh...you're not all that different from Uncle Vernon." 

Severus was tempted to ask Harry if he was trying to insult him, but decided against it. He knew the boy adored him too much to do that. The boy only reminded him of that admiration several times a day. "Well I should hope our... anatomy... would not vary significantly. As much as I would like to think otherwise, both your Uncle Vernon and I are males of the same species." 

"That's one thing that I'm confused about." Harry leaned back and sunk neck-deep in the soothing herbal water. "If we're all the same species, wizards and muggles I mean, why is there so much prejudice? Like why do people look down so much on muggle born wizards and witches?" 

Severus stopped in the middle of shrinking a nightshirt for Harry to wear, and looked at the boy, not knowing what to say. There had been prejudice in both the magical and muggle worlds in the past over differences in skin and hair colour, territories, as well as for cultural differences. But why there existed prejudice on the part of magical people toward the non-magical people was something Severus had never thought much on. He accepted it as something that just existed, but not the rationale for it. 

"And what about those first wizards and witches." Harry turned his lacerated hand over in the bowl of dissolved healing herbs. "Where did they come from?" 

Severus's head appeared to get caught in the collar of his own nightshirt as he shrugged his arms into the sleeves. The face that eventually emerged from the collar looked very perplexed indeed. "There exist legends in our world about the first magical people..." 

"Ooh! Tell me?" Harry said, looking excited. 

"In one legend, there was a magical deity who was exhausted at having to care for all the humans." Severus began, straining to remember a story his mother had told him when he was not much younger than Harry was at the moment. "So the deity created magical people to help the other humans." 

"Did the magical god make the magical people just appear?" Harry closed his eyes as Severus gently rinsed away the soap and herb residue from his body. "Or did they get borned?" 

"Some of the wizarding story books say the deity made the magical people appear." Severus replied as he wrapped a towel around Harry and lifted him out of the tub, "your grandmother used to tell me the deity implanted the magical people in the uteruses of their mothers." 

"You mean in their mother's tummies?" Harry asked. 

Severus nodded, patting Harry dry with a large flourescent pink and green towel that he suspected Albus had planted in his chambers as a cornball joke. 

"So... if that is correct, then that means that all wizards, even the Malfoy's ancestors were originally muggle born?" Harry deduced. 

The towel dropped to the floor. Severus had never thought of that before. He knew it of course, just never considered it seriously. It was amazing how a young mind could sometimes see things the older ones could not. 

End Part Twenty-Three 


	24. Course: Snape Manor

**Remembrance and Renewal** by **Avatar Arkmage** and **Nigel Tatsuya**  
Chapter Thirty-Five **Course: Snape Manor**

"I like that theory a whole lot, because I don't think people just appear in the world like one second they aren't here, and the next second they are. I think people have to be borned because everybody needs parents to take care of them until they know how to take care of themselves." Harry picked up the towel and handed it back to Severus, "How else would the first witches and wizards know how to bathe, find food, or even how to make babies if they themselves apparated into the world from nothing? You'd think if the first magical folks were made that way, they'd try to make their own babies appear out of thin air too, wouldn't they? And their children, and their children after that would also make their babies just appear like that. "

Severus raised his brows at that. Magical people did in fact reproduce the same way that muggle people did.

"I know you and mum didn't make me just apparate into the world!" Harry stated, watching with some amusement as Severus's cheeks coloured slightly. "Even the first witches and wizards needed parents to love them, and show them how to do things to survive, so they had to be borned through muggle parents." Harry wondered why Severus had stopped drying him, so he coaxed his father along by leaning into the towel in his hands. "So are there any other stories of how the first magical people appeared on the Earth?"

"There are many legends that state that the first magical people came through magical or divine means, but there also exist theories which seem more plausible." Severus gently turned Harry and proceeded to dry his back, "some believe that all humans might possess the potential for using magic. But the ability at birth for it is greater in some people than for others."

"Really? Is that like how all people can be taught to play football or quidditch, but only a few are really good at it in the beginning, and some are more talented at it than others?"

Severus wrapped Harry in the towel and lifted him onto the counter. He applied a non-magical healing salve to Harry's cuts before bandaging them. Not wanting Harry's hair to appear so unruly, Severus wiped the excess moisture from it then combed it out using a fixative, which left Harry's hair looking quite sleek and somewhat greasy. Thankfully, it did not leave Harry's hair particularly greasy to the touch.

When Harry noted Severus's silence, he initially began to worry that he had somehow offended his sire. He then realized that Severus only might have not understood what football was, and briefly explained the game to his father before urging him to continue.

"It is believed that magical people might only have a better ability to channel the same powers that all humans have." Severus helped Harry don a fresh, shrunken nightshirt. After one more, nearly fruitless attempt at combing down errant strands of Harry's unruly hair, he helped the youth to the floor.

"Is that why there are books to help squibs along?" Harry inquired, thinking about the time he had seen Argus Filch's self help books. "Because if they work hard enough at it they can learn to do magic?"

"Many squibs never learn to perform much more than the simplest of spells," Severus sighed, thinking of how hard Argus Filch had tried over the years. The only real abilities the old caretaker had gained, was the seemingly supernatural ability to detect students out in the halls after hours, no matter how hard those students tried to elude him. "But yes, with enough effort and perseverance, all humans can learn to better channel their innate energies. Even magnify those energies greatly in some instances. Many might never be able to perform complex spells, but they can often manage less complicated ones."

"Must be why some muggles can be psychics, but still are not thought of as full magical people, even though they must know how to use a little magic." Harry speculated, holding on to the hem of Severus's nightshirt as they both walked out of the washroom. "Do you know that muggle police use psychics to find people who got killed or who went missing? People who seem a lot like Professor Trelawny, but do not tell people that they are doomed."

At Severus' aghast expression, Harry continued, not letting go of his father's clothes as he followed the man into the living area. "It's true, and often those police psychics can predict where the missing people are, better than Professor Trelawny can predict what the future is!"

Severus' face remained primarily neutral, but Harry thought he saw a microgesture of amusement grace his sire's sallow features, as the man sat in the black leather lounge chair in front of the fireplace. Harry knew he should probably sit on the sofa, but longed for warmth and closeness, so he climbed onto the chair as well and curled up in his father's lap. To his absolute delight, Severus did not order him onto the sofa or otherwise push him away. "Are there any other ways that they say the first magical people came about?"

"Heredity is another theory. It is believed that magical ability evolved in much the same way as any other trait."

"Like the colour of a person's eyes?"

"Yes, along with other abilities a parent might pass on to their child." Severus stated, looking closely at Harry for the first time; trying to see past the charms for even a ghost of a trait he may have passed down to his own son. "Among all the babies, some had the ability to run faster, some could solve complex problems better than others, some possessed great strength and endurance, some had the ability to lead others, and some were born with magical abilities. When those children grew up, some of them reproduced with others who had similar abilities, thereby increasing the chances of passing the trait onto their children."

Harry rested his head on his father's chest. He loved listening to that very heart that so many people thought Severus never possessed. "Like how athletic parents have athletic kids? So that's how the first magical parents had magical kids, and their kids had more magical kids?"

"Yes, the likelihood that their offspring would have the magical trait is greater when both parents posses it." Severus stated, chafing somewhat from the contact, but not finding it unbearable. "But as with all traits, some of the offspring may have traits more similar to one of their parents, while a few of the offspring are born without the powers either parent."

"The squibs." Harry concluded, his young brain struggling to keep pace with his father's and often moving so fast that it sometimes surpassed it. "Kinda like how parents who have one hair colour might make a kid that has hair a different colour, like your hair was different from grandmum and how my hair is more like yours and not like my mum's. And the squibs are like a baby who got different hair from both parents?"

"I believe so." Severus went silent. He had black hair, but his mother had fiery coal-red hair. Did he acquire his own black hair from his biological father?

"So those first magical people might have been the ancestors of the old Wizarding families?" Harry asked.

"That is possible."

"I wonder if the Malfoys realize that their great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great grandparents were probably born from muggle parents?" Harry said, immensely enjoying the closeness with his sire.

Severus exhaled in response. His father, the one who raised him, had once been a Malfoy. Lucien's resemblance to Lucius Malfoy, left little question to his lineage. To the Elder Snape's credit, for all his ill-temper, and parenting with a very heavy hand, he had never taught Severus to hate the muggles. He hadn't taught Severus to like them as Arthur Weasley probably taught his children to, but at least he never encouraged Severus to harass them or hate them without reason.

Might the Malfoys have disowned Lucien over something as trivial as his indifference toward muggles? No, it had to have been more than that. Although it was well known in the wizarding community that Lucius Malfoy, along with the rest of the Malfoy clan, detested muggles and especially muggle born witches and wizards, it was something that Lucien never demonstrated. If he did share that prejudice, how could he have loved Mervidith Rogue, some one from a less wealthy wizarding family who were tolerant enough of muggles to allow their only daughter Mervidith to have muggle friends in her youth?

Resting his head on the back of his chair, Severus remembered his mother telling him of the horrible events surrounding his conception. She had been at a sleepover at a muggle friend's house when a group of pure-blooded vigilantes attacked. Mervidith had tried to protect the otherwise defenceless muggles. The sight of a pureblooded witch among the muggles must have enraged the attackers and they...

Severus could not bring himself to remember the rest of what his mother had told him of that night... Although he had later read news reports from the archives, and had even bribed information from the looser tongued members at the Ministry's law enforcement division, he could hardly think on those matters, even today. No doubt, justice had been denied Mervidith Rogue in part because she had been at a muggle's house at the time. Some of the people interviewed in the news articles had even blamed her for her own attack, saying "well what was she doing there anyway?"

And now, Severus Snape carried the blood of one of the pureblooded assailants. Severus Snape had deduced who his real father might have been, but could not bear to think of the prominent man or mention his name, even in the sanctuary of his thoughts.

Harry also bore the attacker's blood. What made Severus extremely uneasy was the fact that Harry was bound to seek answers. Be it in his de-aged state, or after his return to his former state, the boy was sure to ask about his true lineage. Severus had no intention of sharing what he knew in this matter, but Harry was Harry. Surely if Severus didn't talk, Harry would find some one who would.

Damn the boy for that!

Severus looked down at little Harry, wondering why he hadn't bombarded him with another barrage of his infernal questions in the last few moments. Surely a long enough silence would have prompted the boy to spur his father onward, even at the risk of infuriating the volatile man.

A soft snore was not the sound Severus had expected. Harry had fallen asleep.

The boy slept with his ear pressed directly over Severus' heart, and his tiny arms draped over his father's body. His breathing was the very embodiment of peace, and his facial expression... nothing short of angelic.

Enfolding Harry securely in his arms, Severus carefully eased out of the chair and carried his child to the bedchambers. He gingerly placed Harry on the bed, fully intending to work on a few more potions before retiring himself.

"No!" Harry began whimpering and reaching for Severus the moment the man began to move away. "Please! I don't want you leave! I'll have to go back in my cupboard if you go away!" When he did manage to reach the collar of Severus' nightshirt, he held on tightly, his whimpering growing gradually louder. The boy's green eyes were wide with fear. "I'll be good, father! I'll be good! Please don't leave me!"

Severus was thoroughly gobsmacked. He wondered what, if anything, he had done to bring this strange behaviour about. Why was Harry panicking? Where did the kid think Severus was going? This was his quarters after all.

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry! Please, I'll do anything you say. You don't even have to love me! Just please don't leave me again!" Harry's vocalisations threatened to erupt into another bout of full blown wailing, a sound that Severus found to be contagious. Every time Harry engaged in that infernal squalling, Severus found that it almost brought tears to his own eyes as well. It was the most annoying cacophony a human voice could articulate.

"I do not intend to 'leave you.'" Severus explained. "I have other matters to attend to. Surely, you are not so bold as to tell me what I may or may not do..." he suddenly realized that it would have made little sense for him to continue. Harry's bright green eyes were indeed focussed on him, but the boy did not seem to be truly seeing him. Harry had in all likelihood awakened in the middle of a nightmare.

In resignation, Severus lay next to Harry, hoping the boy would make haste and fall back to sleep. He did not wish to indulge the boy by any means, but found that the boy's pleas were virtually impossible to ignore.

When Harry eventually fell asleep once more with Severus' collar still clutched firmly in his tiny hands, Severus closed his eyes too. As headstrong, annoying, insidious and clingy as Harry could be, Severus had to admit to himself that it wasn't unbearable. Although being told that he was loved had unnerved him in the beginning, and still made him uncomfortable even now, it also made him feel a sense of contentment he had not known in many years. In his de-aged state, Harry was far less likely to refrain from saying what he really thought, good or bad. That left no shadow of a doubt that Severus was indeed loved.

And Severus came into the realisation that he reciprocated at least some of that love. How could he not love the little green-eyed angel, now flesh, after all?

* * *

Harry awakened feeling so comfortable, that he wondered if he were still in the midst of an enjoyable dream. Unlike the chills he felt during most of the year, and the stifling heat he endured during the Summers in his cupboard, Harry felt warm and placid. He shook himself fully awake and grinned hugely at the fact that he was no longer on his lumpy mattress in the Dursley's cupboard, but in a warm bed next to his beloved father. 

As the last remnants of sleep faded from his consciousness, Harry vaguely remembered dreaming that he and Severus were running toward a train station, only to have it explode right before their eyes. The dream shifted, and soon Harry found himself sitting in front of the fireplace, seeing the still smoking ruins of the train station on the front page of the Daily Prophet. In his dream, seeing the wreckage enraged him so, that he tore the newspaper in two.

Although Harry despised senseless, violent deaths like these, he could not understand why he was angry, rather than saddened. Why had he dreamed that particular dream in the first place?

Upon awakening fully, Harry remembered that he and Cho would have to do detentions as a punishment for their reckless stunts on Harry's Firebolt. The manoeuvres themselves had been colossal fun for both of them, but the tonguelashings they received thereafter from Severus, had reduced both of them to tears.

Harry could hardly believe the time the grandfather clock displayed, and wanted to accuse it of fibbing. It read 9:30 in the morning! Harry nearly asked the clock if the time was correct, but upon seeing his father's features tranquil in deep slumber, Harry remained silent.

Harry smiled once more and snuggled up to Severus, being careful not to wake him with any abrupt movements. Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia sometimes 'slept in' on Saturdays or Sundays, occasionally not arising until 11:00, or at least until Dudley woke them by clamouring for breakfast. Although Severus did not appear to be the sort of adult that would ever 'sleep in,' he seemed to be doing just that today.

But what if he was sick?' A voice deep within Harry asked. Worried, Harry gently placed a palm on Severus's forehead, moved it down the man's sallow face and felt along his neck. "Thank goodness!" little Harry mouthed at feeling that the man's skin was no warmer than normal. "You're not sick, you just wanted to sleep in today. Well you deserve to!"

Wondering if Cho was waiting outside the labs to serve her detention, Harry kissed his father on the cheek before climbing out of the bed to get dressed. The house elves had already cleansed the shrunken white shirt, undercrackers, trousers, frock coat, and outer robes that Harry had discarded just last night when he had his bath, so Harry removed his nightshirt and started to put the clothes on.

He walked out of his father's bedchambers, still doing up the buttons of his frock coat. He wondered once more why he always ended up with either one or two too many button holes, or one or two too many buttons. Harry noticed a breakfast of hot buttered waffles, bacon, eggs and hot cocoa waiting for him on the dining table.

"Is Harry Potter wanting breakfast now?" Dobby asked, popping into the room and placing a tray of sausages on the table.

"DOBBY!" Harry exclaimed, before running over and hugging the quivering house elf. "It's so good to see you again!"

"The Great Little Harry Potter is happy to see Dobby? WAAAAH AAAH!"

"Aw gee, Dobby!" Harry said, still hugging Dobby and patting his back. "Don't cry, you're my friend."

"The Great Harry Potter thinks of Dobby as a friend!"

"Of course! Even though your ways of saving me were scary, you're a real friend to try and do that!" Harry picked up Dobby and hugged him as though he were a large elfin doll. "Thank you for breakfast too, by the way."

Dobby sobbed, warming somewhat to the affection. "Even small, Harry Potter is a great wizard. Will Harry Potter be wanting more food?"

"Oh...If anything I might ask you to bring me another stomach so I can eat more of it!"

"Harry Potter is not only great, he is funny!" Dobby said before popping out of the room.

Harry pouted. He had been about to ask Dobby to join him for breakfast.

Noticing that only one setting had been prepared, but there was enough food for at least four people, Harry decided to look outside to see if Cho was there, waiting to do her detention. Since Severus wasn't awake yet and Harry enjoyed company, he decided that he would ask if she might join him. After all, people worked better when their stomachs were full.

Only an empty corridor greeted Harry when he looked out of Snape's chambers. This was very unusual! It was strange enough that Severus was sleeping late, but even stranger that Cho had not reported for her detention.

Harry was too hungry to ponder on those matters any further, and tucked in. As always, the food was exceptional. Not even Harry under the most watchful eye of Aunt Petunia could have prepared waffles as perfect as the house elves did. Harry ate heartily for a long time, thinking it odd that his appetite was as ravenous as when he had been a rapidly growing teenager, but had only a child's stomach to fill. Where did his body store the extra food? Good job he did not have an appetite such as Ron's! A de-aged Ron could likely exhaust the kitchen house elves.

Harry was about to reach for another strip of bacon when he noticed a copy of the Daily Prophet laying on the floor just a few feet away from the dining table. Normally this wouldn't have attracted his interest, but this particular copy of the Daily Prophet had been torn in half, as though someone had been enraged by something that had been written inside. The long vertical tear went through a picture of a large pile of rubble with confused people scurrying about it. Harry vaguely remembered dreaming about he and Severus running through a town toward that very station, only to have it explode right before their eyes. The fact that the very train station was depicted here horrified Harry greatly.

His breakfast abandoned, Harry excused himself from the table and picked up the marred newspaper. Out of its pages, fell a small envelope. Being the curious youth that he was, Harry knelt to the floor. With great ceremony, he turned the envelope over in his small hands before lifting the unsealed flap to examine its contents.

"Train tickets?" Harry whispered to the empty room. He read the tickets, and saw that one was for an adult passenger, and the other was a child's ticket. "What? Oh father! You were going to take us somewhere...and now you can't."

Harry's heart sank. Knowing that Harry could not travel by magical means, Severus must have opted for a muggle method of transportation. He had been planning to take them both on a trip to...Harry paused to read the ticket's destination and time, London...today!

London!

Could it be that Severus was reaching out to Harry, and they were going to go somewhere fun? Like muggle London, or even Diagon Alley? As a father and son? On a real outing? Harry would have finally had the chance to spend quality time with a real parent?

But they could not go without a train station to depart from.

Sniffling once again, as he had many times over the past week, Harry put the tickets back into the envelope and replaced them within the pages of the newspaper. It took a considerable measure of control to avoid throwing the paper hard against the floor, or into the fire itself, but Harry managed to put it down softly in the precise area he had first spotted it.

Sadly, Harry moped from Severus's chambers and made to return to the infirmary. If Severus were to wake, and found that Cho had not reported for detention, he would be quite angry. With any luck, Harry would manage to bring Cho back to the dungeons before that occurred.

Harry could barely remain standing when he opened the door to the infirmary. All of the beds were empty, and Madam Pomfrey was nowhere in sight. Only Cho remained, seated on her usual chair with her upper body resting across YiChung's EMPTY BED.

"Oh no!" Harry mouthed to himself, piecing together the events from the sight before him. YiChung Chang, Cho's beloved grandfather, must have died during the night, and Cho had apparently stayed up all night grieving after him. She was sleeping, although the tears on her face were still not dry...she must have just cried herself to sleep.

Harry silently walked closer to the empty bed, and saw that Cho was holding a lock of silvery white hair in her delicate hands...YiChung's hair, a memento of her beloved grandsire. Harry wondered if she had fought with the house elves when they had taken YiChung's body away, and all she managed to grab was a handful of his long white hair. No, perhaps not, Harry surmised. The lock appeared to have been cut cleanly. Perhaps she had cut off a bit of her Grandfather's hair to have something of him to hold onto.

Tears blurring his vision now, Harry surveyed the area further. On the tray table was YiChung's ever present box of sesame candy and almond cookies. The elderly wizard had died before finishing even a fourth of the box. He knew that Cho brought her grandfather cookies and candy nearly every day...he was too sick to even enjoy them in his last hours.

Harry covered his mouth as he felt sobs force their way up into his throat. Poor Grandpa Chang! His human heart could not keep his largely dragon body alive.

Harry patted the pillow where the old wizard's head would have been, and quietly prayed that Grandpa Chang would have all the almond cookies and sweets he wanted wherever his spirit went. Harry also prayed that Grandpa Chang would never have to feel sad or be hexed again.

Harry moved closer to Cho, wanting so badly to offer her comfort. She would need all of her friends and family now, and as much as Harry wanted to be there for her, he pulled back. How could he offer her comfort when he himself needed comforting?

Still covering his own mouth to avoid sobbing aloud, and thereby waking Cho, Harry slowly backed away and toward the door out of the infirmary. Once there, he tiptoed through, planning to tell Severus everything he had seen. Harry would also beg Severus not to be too harsh with Cho, for her Grandfather had died, and she would be upset enough already. There was absolutely no need to add to it.

Halfway back to the dungeons, Harry nearly lost what little control he had left. He was glad he had not burst into tears in the infirmary, for he cried loudly as a child, and would have surely roused Cho. He could not help himself now. Veering toward the entrance fronting the great hall, Harry ran through, and out onto the largely deserted grounds of Hogwarts. He did not stop running until he reached the lake.

Just in time.

Harry fell to the ground, assumed a fetal position and began to wail in sorrow. "IT'S NOT FAIR!" Harry screamed out over the lake. "It's just not fair!"

Life had never seemed more cruel. Harry had lost his parents before he was even old enough to remember them, and he had lost Sirius after knowing him for only a relatively short time. How long would he be allowed to stay with Severus before he was killed as well? If Voldemort learned that Harry was Severus's son, Mouldyshorts would kill Severus or otherwise hurt him very badly.

Harry thought of ways he could possibly keep Severus alive, but could find no feasible solutions. Short of taking the aggressive route, and attacking the Dark Lord outright. In Harry's mind, it was the only way. If Harry were able to kill Mouldyshorts, he'd have his father back, and all would be fine. If he lost, well..., at the very least he'd not be alive to feel the pain. It was a win win situation. As soon as he was re-aged back to his former state, he'd make ready for battle.

His anger starting to ebb, he wept even more thinking about how hard a time Cho was in for. She was barely over Cedric Diggory's murder, and now she would have to deal with the loss of another loved one. Would she blame herself for years, and wonder if there had been anything she could have done to save her Grandfather's life? Harry had done the same. He wondered if he could have done anything to save his own parents, first from what he thought was a car crash, and then Voldemort.

Although he was not granted the chance to anticipate going with his father to London, that had been cruelly stolen from him before he even learnt of it.

Burying his face in his arms, Harry wept loudly, feeling both helpless and devoid of hope...

"What is wrong, dear child?" The Headmaster's voice penetrated Harry's throes of desolation.

The memories of the conversation he had had with Severus came back with a vengeance. This was the man who had knowingly sent his father to what was most likely his death. "BUGGER OFF!" Harry screamed, tears dripping off his chin.

The Headmaster looked both dejected and astonished at the same time. Harry noted that the aged Headmaster wasn't alone. Just behind him was a teenaged Asian wizard, dressed in deep black silk robes with gold and green dragons embroidered throughout the iridescent fabric. Harry had never seen that teen at the school before, but recognized the satiny black hair, reflecting the midday sunlight like spun obsidian glass...this must have been one of Cho's relatives. The youth's hair was stick straight like Cho's, except that it was much longer, the ends reaching the back of his thighs.

He must have come to grieve the loss of YiChung Chang.

Suddenly feeling more grief-stricken than angry once more, Harry turned to the teen. "Hello...you must be one of the Chang family..."

"I am." the teen said.

"Then." Harry started bawling once more, his tears breaking his voice to the point where he had to repeat everything to remain comprehensible. "I-I am so-so sorry for... for your loss."

The Asian teen stared blankly at Harry with his twinkling chestnut brown eyes. "Thank you for your kindness...but what loss do you speak of?"

"Then...then you must not know." Harry hid his face in his hands. "Maybe...maybe I shouldn't tell you, then. Go to the infirmary. Cho is there...she can tell you...better than..." Harry couldn't finish.

"Judging from how sad you appear to be, it would seem that you have suffered a loss of some sort." The young wizard threw his long hair over his shoulder and sat on the grass beside Harry. "Besides, I have already spoken to Cho. I left the infirmary a few hours ago."

Harry concluded that the teen must have been in shock, and only sobbed into his hands more. Albus sat on the other side of Harry and tried to console him without much success. The teen just stared at Harry, looking like he wanted to cry as well.

"Harry?" the teen asked when Harry quieted somewhat.

"H-how do you know my name?" Harry asked.

"I could never forget a thoughtful boy such as yourself." The Asian wizard said, his moist eyes twinkling despite the tears. He took a small red container out of his robes. "Would you like an almond cookie?"

"Th-that's just what...Grandpa Chang would have said...aaaaaahhhh!" Harry wailed for a few seconds before stopping abruptly. "Hang on... you...you..."

YiChung's eyes scintillated even more brightly at being referred to as 'Grandpa Chang,' especially by a boy who was not a blood relative. "Oh course that is what 'Grandpa Chang' would have said, because thanks to Albus here, I am Grandpa Chang, albeit considerably younger!"

"WHAT!" Harry gasped, falling back on his elbows. "But how?"

In tandem, both Albus and YiChung told Harry of the events that had occurred during the previous night. Apparently after Harry had retired, Severus stole away and went to the infirmary.

"I was most surprised at that." Albus, who had been visiting with YiChung at the time, said. "Your father came into the infirmary at roughly 12:01 in the morning and told Miss Chang that she had to serve her detention."

"I tried to persuade him to wait until dawn, but your father insisted that she serve her detention right then> He explained that he had told Cho earlier that she would have to serve detention first thing in the morning, and 12:01 am is technically morning." YiChung said, giving Albus and Harry an almond cookie, then taking one himself and munching it ravenously. "Cho had endangered his precious child, after all."

Harry was stunned. How could father have been so mean as to drag Cho out for detention in the middle of the night?

"Naturally, I protested and told him that he had no cause to treat a student that way." Albus stated. "But he forcefully dragged Cho off, so I had no choice but to follow."

"It was revealed that Professor Snape had brought all of the lab equipment he would need into an empty room on this floor." YiChung said, his eyes twinkling like two actively galactic nuclei once more. "He put Cho to work on a de-aging potion, while he enlisted the help of Madam Pomfrey in testing my blood counts and chemistry."

"Miss Chang was evidently so unnerved, that she brewed a full caldron of de-aging potion when all that would be required was four vials." Albus continued. "When it was completed, Professor Snape administered it to 'Grandpa Chang.'"

"After I drank the potions, it turned me back into a strapping man of seventy. You see Harry, when you get to be oh...past ninety or a hundred years old or so, your body can't heal as well as it used to, so your father's first step was to turn me back into a younger wizard." YiChung recounted.

Harry really wanted to ask why YiChung now looked like a twelve or thirteen year old, but thought it better not to interrupt. "Severus worked for many hours, brewing the most complex healing potions I had ever seen." Albus declared. "He simultaneously worked over nine caldrons, adding different ingredients and spells into each, and telling to Cho to monitor the potions when one of the caldrons needed more of his attention than the others."

"Madam Pomfrey watched over me the whole time, saying that my heart was weakening, but since it was now a younger heart it could still endure for a while longer." YiChung conveyed, "I did indeed feel better after having the de-aging potion, but I felt considerably worse when Severus returned to my bedside with a handful of muggle hypodermic needles."

Harry cringed. He hated having injections and wondered why so many of them would be required.

"With Madam Pomfrey and Cho's assistance, they injected the different potions throughout my body. Albus lifted the weight from my heart so that I could gather the strength to resume my human form." YiChung continued, the look of fascination on his features.

"Your father is a genius at potions. Each different potion healed the area in which it was injected. My body chemistry was so altered by the hexes, and my partial draconian transformation, that he needed to brew nine separate potions to inject at various sites to allow me to fully heal. Each one was made so precisely that it cured the area it was intended for. Professor Snape is the most miraculous potions brewer I have ever had the privilege of meeting."

Harry swelled with pride. Yes, his father was the best! The greatest! So he knew it, and now others did as well.

"But Harry, I need your help now." YiChung said, smiling.

"Sure, what kind of help did you need?" Harry asked.

"Your father would accept nothing as payment for his work, stating that it was all because of yours and Cho's mischief that some one had to do detention. Your father wants nothing as payment for his good work, but I would still like to repay him, or at the very least, do something for him...and you perhaps.

Harry shrugged.

"Out of kindness then, if not in payment?" YiChung asked.

Harry thought about it for a while and shrugged once again. He could think of nothing Severus would either need or accept.

YiChung sighed.

"Well I can't think of anything right now. But I've been wondering about something..." Harry started. "Since you were supposed to be aged to about seventy years old, why do you look like big kid?"

YiChung chuckled but sneered at Albus, whose blue eyes were glimmering mischievously. "I'm afraid I am to blame for that. You see, Harry about 138 years ago, I was in an exchange program to a wizarding school in China. In the year I participated in the exchange, I stayed with YiChung and his family."

"You were in the same year?" Harry asked, having a hard time envisioning Albus Dumbledore as a youth.

"No, Albus...uh Professor Dumbledore is seven years my senior. I was a first year when he was a seventh." YiChung said with a very childlike grin. "He used to always play pranks on me, he did! Like tying my hair to the bedposts when I was sleeping. Transfiguring my wooden slippers so that they sounded like drums when I walked around. And he'd make my clothes spotted like leopard skins. And he'd change the filling in my dim sum to something like chili peppers and chocolate sauce, and he'd turn my nishikigoi fish into firebreathers, And..."

"YiChung," Dumbledore halted him, looking like he was about to die of laughter. "I believe Harry has the general idea..."

"No I don't." Harry said quickly, hardly believing the Headmaster had ever played pranks that would make James Potter green with envy, and Fred and George marvel at the pure genius of them. He wanted to hear more, but Albus continued.

"YiChung...er...Grandpa Chang was like a dear little brother. I loved him the same as I loved Aberforth." Albus said, turning to YiChung. "Now that we're old men, it is all too easy to forget our youth and what it is like to be young. YiChung needed a gentle reminder."

"Oh balderdash!" YiChung stood up so rapidly that he almost tripped over his own hair. "You just wanted to laugh at me again! That was a dirty prank you did! Challenging me to a swallowing as much liquor as humanly possible in one gulp' contest and then switching my drink with the leftover de-aging potion!"

"In all fairness," Albus said, his eyes twinkling. "You fell for it, and Miss Chang did make a considerable amount of the potion, it would have been a shame for it to go to waste."

"GO TO WASTE!" YiChung screeched, jumping up and down as he spoke. "You should have taken a drink of that potion yourself and bought a penny whistle, some sherbet lemons, and a jump rope then! Besides, giving a person such a big dose of any potion? That's dangerous!"

"You are almost as old as I am, YiChung, I doubt even a full caldron of de-ager would have turned you into a foetus."

"Ohhhhhh!" YiChung shouted, looking rather comical now. "Just you wait, Albus! I'll have my revenge one of these days! When you least expect it! You'll always be seven years older than I am, but you can't outsmart me forever!"

For all his complaints, YiChung appeared to not be truly angry. He ran around Albus and Harry a few times, as though to expend a great measure excess energy. Soon his sprints became a jovial skipping. He took out his wand and transfigured a mushroom into a makeshift mattress and proceeded to jump on it like a trampoline. "You know?" YiChung said, executing an inverted triple loop. "I almost could not remember what it was like to move about without stiffness, or arthritis. And this is fun! Harry, won't you join me?"

In short order, Harry was jumping on the mushroom trampoline with YiChung. Even he had been no stranger to stiff joints and pain from injuries. For the first time in his memory, he could enjoy playing without discomfort or fear of punishment.

Albus sat on the grass and watched Harry and YiChung jumping and executing flips and spins. YiChung jumped off the mushroom when they noticed Severus approaching. "I thank you so much for saving me, Severus! Please dear son, in all but blood of Albus, let me do something for you in return?"

"As I've told you before, I did no more than anyone else would have done for you." Severus replied, as Harry ran to him and nearly bowled him over with a fierce embrace. "And Cho had a detention to serve..."

"Then may I do something as a kindness, rather than repayment?"

Albus interrupted this time. "YiChung, I have been informed that Severus and Harry had planned to go to London this day, but due to the unfortunate destruction of the train station at Hogsteadder, they will not be able to go."

"Is that so?" YiChung asked, his large chestnut brown eyes twinkling. He bounced, rather than walked directly up to the dour potion master. "Professor Snape? Has Cho been taught how to brew a re-aging potion? Or might you have some available?"

* * *

A magnificent dragon, with iridescent black scales which glowed a faint green in the waning daylight, bolted across the sky. It travelled so fast, that anyone looking up at the moment would have reported the appearance of a black meteor grazing the Earth's ionosphere. 

Severus Snape lay nearly flat against the great dragon's back, reducing as much wind resistance as possible. Strapped to the potion master's back with sashes forming a crude harness, was Harry, who wondered just how many in the magical world had had the privilege and pleasure of a ride on a dragon's back.

Minerva, Albus, Filius and Remus will be meeting us at the Leaky Cauldron in about twenty minutes. YiChung said telepathically in his draconian form.

"Is that how long it will take for us to reach London?" Harry asked, hugging his father's shoulders, and feeling more proud of Severus than ever.

No Harry, we will be served our drinks by the time they apparate there.YiChung replied.

In the distance, Harry saw lights spreading across the tapestry of the landscape. "Is that London, father?"

"Yes," Severus replied, raising his head from YiChung's back to glance ahead. The familiar, fast-approaching skyline filling with him with trepidation...and a strange feeling of nostalgia. "We are almost home."

End Part Twenty-Four


	25. Two Snape Manors

**Remembrance and Renewal** by **Avatar Arkmage** and **Nigel Tatsuya**   
Chapter Twenty-Five: Two Snape Manors 

The lights of London approached rapidly, reminding Harry of a swarm of attacking fireflies. YiChung, in his draconian form, travelled at a velocity that Harry had not seen even birds of prey duplicate. 

Curiously, Harry felt no more than a gentle breeze as they sped over the tops of the tall buildings, and concluded that YiChung could produce some sort of magical dampening field a safe distance ahead of them, which prevented Severus and Harry from being swept off of his scaly back, as well as the interventio interferus in Harry's blood from reacting adversely to the field itself. 

Harry clung firmly to Severus' shoulders as they descended stealthily onto a deserted football pitch in muggle London at last. While still several metres from the ground, YiChung transformed back into his human form, birled around rapidly, and held Severus and Harry securely in his arms as he landed softly on the ground. 

"WOW! You can fly even in your human form?" Harry asked in surprise as Severus released him from the makeshift harness. 

Out of breath, YiChung only shook his head, tossed his long white hair over his shoulder and sat heavily on the soft grass. "It's just a...Levitation Charm..." YiChung explained after a while. "Very useful...if you find yourself falling from a great height..." 

"Curious..." Harry began, "why do you transform back into your human form before you land? Aren't we heavier to carry that way?" 

Severus mouthed to Harry that he should not bother people with such silly questions as he rummaged inside his robes. Harry either didn't notice his small gesture, or chose to ignore it completely. 

YiChung, despite his being exhausted, grinned widely. "Although I can take off in my draconian form, I tend to land...really hard. Albus would never forgive me... if his son and grandson, in every sense but blood, ...got hurt or killed from being thrown from my back. My own ... wife was bounced nearly half a kilometre ... when I landed once." 

"Oh no!" Little Harry gasped, kneeling beside the old wizard. "She didn't die..?" 

"Nah!" YiChung chuckled, his cheeks still discoloured from the exertion. "She even landed... almost perfectly on her feet and gave me a firm... kick in the tail... for not being more careful with her." 

Severus pulled out a large beaker, which Harry was sure Severus had somehow charmed to be smaller whilst in his robes, or else Harry would surely have felt it. "Here, drink." Before YiChung could protest, Severus began pouring its contents into the elderly man's mouth. "It's a hydrating potion, combined with tissue and strength regeneratives." 

Harry watched in wonder as YiChung quickly drank the entire contents of the beaker. The colour on the old man's cheeks returned to normal even before he had finished the pale green concoction. "Delicious!" the old wizard said, suddenly rising from the ground with renewed vigour. "Flavoured like sweet limes! I must buy some of that hydrating potion from you before I return to..." 

"I shall give you as many to take with you as you desire." Severus said, the gratitude in his black eyes evident, but absent from the rest of his features. "It is not a difficult potion to brew, after all." 

"You are too kind, Professor Snape." YiChung stated, bowing reverently. "I am in your debt..." 

"You are not." Severus interrupted. "I am offering nothing more than anyone else would have..." 

"Then whenever I am in the UK, or if you're in Asia, please feel free to call upon me if you require anything, for no other reason than you and your son are delightful people." YiChung interrupted back. He turned to Harry as he continued. "And do not hesitate to ask if you wish to travel anywhere, I rather enjoy flying, and seeing the land from the air is an amazing sight I never tire of." 

Severus only nodded curtly, but Harry grinned at the old man. If he never transformed into a flying animagus himself in his lifetime, he would definitely enjoy another ride on YiChung's back in the future. There was nothing comparable to it. A broom ride was nowhere near as exhilarating. 

The three walked unnoticed toward the edge of the field, and took refuge beneath the deserted stands. Severus once again reached into his robes, and withdrew what appeared to be a dirty blonde beehive wig, causing Harry to have to cover his mouth to abstain from laughing. 

"Do you find something humourous?" Severus narrowed his eyes. 

"No." Harry lied, knowing that while they'd have to look like muggles whilst in non-magical London. Resembling muggles from the 1960s, and muggles of the opposite sex for that matter, did not seem a very good idea. "Where did you get that?" 

"It was your grandmother's." Severus replied. "She intended to discard it years ago, but I thought it might prove useful as a disguise." 

Harry tried to say something, but he burst into laughter so contagious that YiChung, and even some muggles walking some distance away started laughing as well. 

Severus's eyes narrowed even further, if that were possible. 

When Harry composed himself sufficiently, he explained that the beehive was an old fashioned hairstyle, and would appear odd on a person today. It also was not meant to be worn by males. 

Reluctantly heeding Harry's warnings, Severus transfigured the wig into a shorter hair style, better suited for a muggle man. When Severus donned the sandy blonde wig, Harry mussed it so that the short tawny layers fell naturally about Severus' ears with the longest layer falling just below his collar. 

"Perfect!" Harry exclaimed. 

As Harry was already wearing a shrunken pair of Dudley's jeans, and one of Severus' white shirts, he could enter the city without raising too many suspicions. "We will draw too much attention dressed like wizards. " Severus stated to YiChung, and elected to transform his billowing black robes into a biker's outfit, although it would vary from the one Albus Dumbledore had created for him several weeks ago. Remembering music he had listened to with Lily at her family's home, he transformed his outfit to replicate the one worn by one of the singers on the disc's package. He could not remember the name of that muggle singing group, but found one of their songs, YMCA,' to be a rather enjoyable tune. On more than one occasion, he even enjoyed dancing with Lily to it, making strange gestures which were supposed to depict the letters . 

"I know that costume!" YiChung gasped. "It's the...uh...uh Townspeople! No wait, it's the Village People, right?" At Harry and Severus's looks of surprise, YiChung continued. "My son and I adore the muggles so! We used to sneak into their gatherings together. We had the pleasure of stealing into concerts from their musicians too, and one group we watched from the 1970s was named 'Village People.' I enjoy their costumes, and their music." After concealing his long white beard in the front of his robes, he transfigured his clothing into a blue and white sailor outfit. 

They were on their second round of drinks when Albus Dumbledore, Minerva McGonagall and Remus Lupin joined them in The Leaky Caldron.

* * *

Lucius Malfoy had not seen his wife, Narcissa, since the day their whole family had been stoutly trounced by Voldemort and some of his over-zealous followers. Try as he might, he could not ask after her. Even though the muggle physicians had done everything in their power to help him recover from his injuries, he still could not speak coherently due to the wiring still immobilizing his jaws. Lucius also could not communicate via writing, for the fingers on his right hand had been broken and were still knitting within the splints. 

Voldemort must have intended this. To not only injure him, but to render him unable to communicate in any meaningful way with the muggles, or anyone for that matter. He would not be able explain to the medical staff what had really happened to him. He could not seek out any special protection from either the muggle world or the magical world, for he wouldn't ask muggles for assistance in the first place, and the aurors would banish him back to Azkaban on sight. 

Voldemort had gone too far this time, but Lucius had little recourse but to remain faithful. Not only had his dealings with the Death Eaters been a source of the Malfoy family's continued wealth and influence in the wizarding world, it was also a matter of great pride. Like many of the other Death Eaters, they stood for the same cause; keeping the wizarding bloodlines pure and free from the inferior and sullying muggle blood, which had the potential to weaken them as a race. 

Even if it were feasible to start a revolt against Voldemort, Lucius was a wanted man, and would lose his freedom before he could even attempt to turncoat and help the side of the light. 

Lucius' face darkened. He began to wonder if Narcissa had even survived the assault. Was she even in the same muggle hospital as he and Draco were? If so, then why weren't the medical staff at this hospital keeping him informed on her condition? Surely they must know that Narcissa Malfoy was his wife? 

Or perhaps they did not. And Lucius could not tell them otherwise. 

Sighing, Lucius turned his attention back to the telly box. Because he had limited use of his hands, and didn't know how to turn the channels besides, Lucius had little choice but to watch whatever programme was airing when he hit the on' toggle switch. Thankfully, it was on a station with a wide variety of programmes. 

Lucius groaned when he heard the television audience chanting "Jerry!" "Jerry!" "Jerry!" and wondered if the host had such a bad memory that the audience needed to remind him of his name numerous times during the course of every show lest he forget. Either that or the audience was incredibly asinine. 

The show title, I'm Married to a Brick House and I Cheated,' flashed on the screen, just before the show's host, Jerry Springer, appeared. 

Lucius could not help but roll his grey eyes at the episode's title. He could hardly believe that some muggles would be desperate or downright stupid enough to marry a non-sentient dwelling made of bricks. Surely they'd not be content with shacks or hovels as offspring would they? 

His speculations were resolved when Jerry called the brick house' spouse of the first guest onto the stage. While the humbug guest was an average sized man, his spouse was a woman who looked as though she spent most of her days tossing cabers or giants. 'No,' Lucius thought after further speculation. 'The woman probably tosses giants holding cabers.' The woman had muscles on top of her already large muscles. She was so large, that fellow Death Eater, Mrs. Bulstrode, would look rather delicate by comparison. 

"You've been censored a-cheatin' on me have you?" the super-sized woman shouted at her husband. "Well you're gonna censored pay for it!" 

Lucius closed his eyes tightly. He had a feeling that he wouldn't want to see what happened next. After a few minutes of loud scuffling and profanity, Lucius opened his grey eyes. He saw the bald headed assistant of Jerry Springer along with other hands converging on the far end of the stage. Just before Jerry called for a commercial break, Lucius saw the cheating husband's feet sticking out of a bin next to the first row of audience members. 

The sound of his door opening softly drew his attention away from the late-night carnage. 

"Father!" 

If Lucius's mouth hadn't been immobilized, he would have opened it wide in surprise. Through the partially opened door, he saw a pair of grey eyes, very much like his own, staring back at him. "Mmrrrfo!" He had never been more happy to see anyone before. 

"Hello father." Draco greeted, rolling his way across the floor on one of the hospital's wheelchairs. " Dr. Casket said I could come and visit, but only if I let one of the orderlies use this wheeled chair." 

Lucius smiled, taking care not to do so too widely, for fear of once again showing Draco his sutured jaw. 

"I didn't mean to run off like I did the last time I visited you." Draco said with contrition. "Seeing those wires in your face startled me, that's all." 

"Mmssrmokay." 

"My healer, Dr. Pain, told me that you must have those wires in your jaw to heal properly. Fortunate we don't need to be healed by the muggles all the time, aren't we? You'd think muggles would take good care not to break their jaws for fear of having to go through this kind of treatment. I'd hate to think what muggle healers would do if one were to break his skull!" Draco said, reaching over to hug his sire before settling back in his wheelchair. 

Draco watched the telly box for a while, and saw Jerry Springer force his way between a huge couple, and attempt to avert the fist fight that looked imminent. "Oh! Father, I was right. I knew you'd enjoy watching Jerry Springer!" 

Lucius wanted to tell Draco that he really didn't like the show, but could not work out how to make the telly box show him something different. Alas, he could say nothing. 

After watching two more couples duke it out, or else punch an interfering stage hand out, Draco began to recount his time so far in the hospital. He told Lucius about Dr. Pain, Nurse Assault, Dr. Casket and even talked a little about Professor Lubricant and his students, and how they thought he was special and wanted to study him. 

Lucius frowned. As if their opinion of muggles weren't bad enough as it was! Either they really had names like Pain, Assault, Casket, and Lubricant, or else they were force feeding Draco too many muggle potions, and it was causing his imagination run rampant. 

"They even gave me quite a number of interesting things!" Draco said excitedly as he lifted a leather case high so Lucius could see without turning his head. Draco then unzipped the case and pulled out some metallic disc-like objects. "Look at these, father! Would you believe that muggles can spell songs on these?" 

"Mmmeymoo?" 

"Oh yes father!" Draco said, pulling out a set of headphones, and carefully putting it on Lucius's white haired head. "Well at first, I didn't know what I was to do with all these discs, so I asked Professor Lubricant about it, and the next day, he brought me this..." Draco held the Compact Disc player in front of Lucius's face so he could better see it, "it's called a cd player." 

Draco may as well have said a fax machine' or a a video game console' because Lucius didn't have the faintest idea what a Compact Disc Player was, or what it did. 

"You simply must hear this, father!" Draco said, withdrawing a disc from its case, putting it into the player and turning it on. Lucius examined the case more closely, and saw that the people on it looked as though they had been the victims of an extreme hair regrower hex, and were not taught that applying makeup with a trowel was not a very reasonable practice. They evidently played ornate drums, and odd stringed instruments that required eccelectricity. In other words, it was a heavy metal band's disc, but they may as well have played new age music, for Lucius did not know one from the other. "Isn't it amazing, father?" 

Lucius could not help but think it was the recorded sounds of a dragon being strangled. Whilst the dragon was choking, it also sounded like some one had thrown the human singer into a barrel which they proceeded to roll down a mountainside. The poor fellow was surely screaming loudly enough. Lucius wondered what would occur next. Would the foolish muggles on the recording attempt a spell and cause something to explode? Apparently they did, because immediately after the racket got louder, there was a loud boom' and then there was silence. 

"Wicked, isn't it?" Draco said smugly.

* * *

After Severus had explained his and YiChung's choices in costumes, and briefly described the muggle singing group they were modelled after to the others, they decided it would be a great idea. Albus transfigured his clothing into garb typically worn by Native Americans, Lupin turned his tattered robes into a denim cowboy outfit, and Minerva took on the appearance of a muggle construction worker, complaining only when her hard yellow hat mussed her neat bun. It was a superb idea. They'd not only blend in with the muggles, they'd blend in no matter where they went, as they replicated muggles from every walk of life, now! 

"Yo, douchebag!" shouted the leader of a real biker gang to Severus as they rumbled past him on the busy street. Minerva, Remus, YiChung and Albus were surprised that Severus seemed to be making friends rather quickly in the muggle world, and each vowed to ask him for some pointers at a later time. 

Not knowing whether or not it was the same biker gang that he had briefly accompanied en route to Privet drive a few weeks ago, Severus politely waved back at them. 

In short order, the group was seated in a local McDumbells munching happily on burgers and chips as they discussed their plans, while striving to remain as inconspicuous as possible to the muggles around them. To their bewilderment, they seemed to be drawing more stares than anyone else in the vicinity. 

Minerva looked sternly at Headmaster Dumbledore. Albus should have known better than to wear such bright purple feathers in his Native American headdress. Of course the muggles would think something was suspicious. What bird was that shade of purple anyway? He should have opted for more conservative lilacs, sky blues, sepias and red feathers in his headdress. Why did Albus have to always be so extravagant? 

Harry somehow managed to play with the toy that came with his kid's meal while still devouring his chicken nuggets and chips faster than anyone else was finishing their own meals. Although Minerva had initially balked at eating nutritionally deficient muggle fast food, she found the quarter-pound cheeseburger, fizzy drink, salad and chips to be highly palatable. Remus didn't mind the adult-sized order of chicken nuggets either and entertained the thought of asking the house elves to make some from time to time at Hogwarts. Albus and Severus munched contentedly on their Big Dude sandwiches and chips, looking at the dessert section of the menu to decide which sundae they would like best. 

A group of bikers, who had been ordering meals at the take away area, shouted: "Bye, douchebag!" at Severus as they left with their orders. 

Concluding that the bikers were being friendly because Severus was dressed as they were, he bid them farewell. 

It was nearly 11:00 pm when the motley group alighted from a muggle taxi and made their way up the street towards Snape Manor. Harry shivered, in part because of the cold night air, but also because he had been on this very street in his brief stint outside of time. He knew exactly where the Snape family home was located, and kept his eyes high, for he neither wanted to see the spot on the pavement where his father's blood had formed red florets, nor the place where he had stood when he had heard his father and grandmother screaming. 

"Are you cold, Harry?" Remus asked, removing his denim jacket and draping it over Harry's shoulders. 

Harry nodded, not wanting to discuss what he was really apprehensive about. He was trembling so much now, that he was actually beginning to sweat. 

The modest-sized house bore all the earmarks of disuse and neglect. The yard was overgrown, and the greying paint, which had once been a lovely off-white, was chipping in many places from the walls. Fractures riddled virtually every window and several louvres were missing from the smaller windows on the second level. 

Harry was taken aback. Surely Severus had not meant to bring them here? The house was probably infested with rodents, silverfish, roaches and Merlin knows what else. 

To Harry's further surprise, none of the group raised any concerns about the poor condition of the place and only followed in silence, putting out the street lamps as they passed. 

Severus led the group toward a very large tree near the end of the property. The circumference of its trunk was so great, that Harry estimated that the tree was many centuries old. If it were hollowed out, several people could hide comfortably within the trunk. 

And that was exactly what Severus apparently intended. Withdrawing his wand, Severus tapped out a pattern on the trunk and softly muttered an incantation. The tree began to creak and rumble softly, and soon a portion of the trunk dissolved away, revealing a doorway. 

Beckoning everyone to follow, Severus stepped into the tree and vanished instantaneously. Not willing to lose his father once more, Harry dashed ahead of the rest of the party and dove into the tree after him. Harry immediately felt a sensation similar to passing through the barrier between platforms nine and ten at King's Cross Station, but was also overcome by a feeling of intense nausea. Dull aching spread like an unchecked fire throughout his body. 

"It's the magical barrier." Albus whispered, patting Harry gently on the back. 

"Even with very low levels of magic, the Interventio Interferous potion reacts." Severus scowled. "Breathe deeply, Harry. This barrier is no more powerful than any of the magical wards in place outside of Hogwarts." 

"It is just more concentrated in a smaller area." Remus added, watching Harry for any sign that he might lose consciousness. 

The feeling of nausea soon passed, and the dull aching subsided. Harry breathed slowly as he raised his head, and saw a moderately large manor silhouetted against the moonless sky. To his surprise, just to the North of it, he saw a second structure, identical in every way to the first, except that it was lit brightly and was in better condition than the first mansion. 

"MASTER SEVERUS!" came a shrill voice from the double maple doors of the brightly lit mansion. A peachy-pink skinned elf with large amber eyes came running out of the mansion and jumped into Severus' arms. "Rastus knew Master Severus would come back some day, Rastus knew it!" 

Harry was very surprised. He knew that most magical people regarded house elves as little more than slaves in the best case scenario, and like vermin in the case of Dobby prior to his release from the Malfoys. Severus actually smirked at the house elf and put him down gently after exchanging greetings that seemed quite amicable. Harry was even more surprised that Professor Dumbledore, Professor McGonagall, Grandpa Chang, and even Professor Lupin seemed to find the behaviour not at all odd. Why? 

Rastus was the most un-elf-like house elf that Harry had ever seen. Unlike Dobby, Yumi or Winky, Rastus had a full head of wavy brown hair and stood nearly 120cm tall, a full head taller than Harry was in his de-aged state. The elf did not wear a tea cozy or even an pillow case, but real clothes; a navy blue shirt, and a grey vest and slacks made out of finely tanned leathers. Although his ears still bore elfin points, they were much smaller than the ears on any of the other house elves Harry had seen. The colour of the elf's skin was the most disturbing feature of all. Despite its coarser texture, it was a fleshy pink colour. Rastus seemed... so... so... HUMAN! 

"Is master Severus and his guests be wanting some food?" Rastus asked excitedly, following Severus and his guests through the doors like an overly excited child. 

"That will not be necessary, Rastus." Severus stated, the McDumbells food still laying heavily in his stomach. "But you may offer our guests tea and biscuits." 

Rastus eagerly popped from the foyer and reappeared a few minutes later in the parlour with refreshments for everyone. When Harry took a sweet and a cup of tea, Rastus seemed to freeze. 

"May I?" after Harry nodded, Rastus leaned forward and sniffed Harry's cheek. "The scent! You being Master Severus's child?" 

"Uh, yes...yes I am," little Harry replied. 

The house elf began dancing, stating that he was overjoyed that Master Severus had finally produced an heir. When Severus commented that it was late and Harry was tired, Rastus led the child up the stairs. 

"Young Snape may choose the room he likes best to sleep in." Rastus hopped around so excitedly as he spoke, that Harry had to run to keep up with him in the hallway. "Rastus will make you toys, and put nice pillows and sheets on your bed and play with you if you is being lonely..." 

Rastus quickly gave Harry a warm bath then put him to bed. Harry had never worn a leather nightshirt before, but decided that it was quite comfortable, sort of like wearing flower petals. He concluded that Rastus had loaned Harry a set of his own clothes. Rastus wore soft leathers like these, and since he and Harry were roughly the same size... 

Odd that Rastus, a house elf, wore clothes at all! 

Although Harry found that he enjoyed being waited on by a house elf, and even found the prospect of having Rastus as a playmate appealing, something gnawed at him as he lay between the brightly coloured sueded cotton bed sheets. Rastus looked so human that it actually made Harry feel very uneasy. 

Was it possible that Rastus might be at least partially human? Did people in the magical world sometimes 'breed' their own workforces? 

'No,' Harry thought to himself as Rastus began to play a lullaby for him on an instrument resembling a pan flute. Humans and elves can not reproduce together.' Hermione would have raised an even bigger rumpus in that S.P.E.W. organisation of hers if she knew house elf owners would sometimes breed future house elves themselves... Their own blood, their slaves. And humans and elves could never produce viable offspring together could they?' 

Or could they?

* * *

Minerva and Albus walked around the grounds of Snape Manor checking the integrity of the wards. YiChung and Remus went back outside the property through the portal in the tree, and tried to steal back in by any means from the air and the ground respectively. Filius Flitwick, who had been delayed by a previous engagement, arrived some time later and tested the integrity of the repelling charms around the grounds. 

"The place seems safe for tonight, but we have discussed it amongst ourselves and will return tomorrow evening bringing the materials necessary to add extra reinforcements to the wards, barriers and charms." Albus proclaimed an hour later, as the group made to re-enter the portal. "You will contact us if there are any problems before then, of course?" 

Severus nodded. Although he thought the existing protections around the manor were sufficient, a little reinforcement was not unreasonable, especially where Harry was concerned. He bowed once more to Albus, then sprinted back to the well lit manor, taking care not to even look in the direction of the first, and darker manor. 

He could not bear to.

* * *

Because he could not bear to sleep in a room so similar to the one he had been brought up in, Severus had chosen a room on the East end of the manor on the first floor to retire for the night in. He opened his eyes the next day, to find that the sun's morning rays seemed to be seeking entrance around the drawn drapes. Enjoying the comfort of the spider silk sheets Rastus had prepared for him, Severus rolled onto his back and made to doze off again, when he noticed that he wasn't alone. Evidently, Harry had joined him at some time during the night. 

"Good morning, father," the very young child said drowsily as he snuggled closer to Severus. 

"Am I to understand," Severus started in an acerbic fashion, "with all the rooms in Snape manor, you find the one I choose to sleep in to be the one you want as well?" 

Harry beamed mischievously. He admitted, that even if Severus had chosen a bed made out of ice, used a mattress pad of sharpened spikes, rested his head on pillow made of sharpened deer antlers, and used bed linens made from stinging nettles and muggle steel wool pads, Harry still would have attempted to sleep next to Severus. 

Severus sighed. Snape Manor was a new place for Harry, after all. People, especially children, often slept poorly in places they weren't accustomed to. 

"Father?" Harry asked after nearly a quarter of an hour. "I've been wondering. Why are there two Snape Manors here?" 

Severus's dark eyes widened. Although he knew that Harry was bound to ask that question, he was ill prepared to discuss it. "There are, suffice it to say, evil things in the Snape Manor I grew up in, so as soon as I could afford to, I had this second place built." 

"This Snape Manor looks exactly like the first one. What's in the original Snape Manor?" Harry asked, looking in the direction of the first mansion even though it could not be seen from Severus's window. 

Severus's face darkened. "That is no concern of yours! Suffice it to say, that it is furnished in almost the same way as this place, and we have everything we need already here, so you'll not need to go looking there for anything." Although Severus's voice was firm, Harry could read undertones of great apprehension as well. "And you are never to enter the original Snape Manor, do I make myself clear?" 

"Never?" 

"NEVER!" Severus snarled. "Even after I'm many years deceased, you are never to set foot in the original Snape Manor!" 

"Never ever ever?" 

Severus exhaled hard. "NEVER NEVER NEVER! Even when you've lived longer than Professor Dumbledore, and have engendered more children and grandchildren than you can count on both your hands, you're never to enter the first Snape Manor! Further, you will forbid your progeny from entering as well." 

"You mean my children and grandchildren too?" 

"Yes! Even your descendants born a millennium after you've died! They are never to enter Snape Manor One!" 

"But, father? What IS in the first Snape Manor?" little Harry pressed placing both forearms on Severus's chest and resting his head upon them. 

"Damn you, Boy!" Severus shouted, sitting up so rapidly that Harry was thrown to the foot of the bed. "That is not your concern! You are to stay away from that accursed place! You may explore the entirety of the grounds, or any part of THIS manor, but you will not set foot even on the walkway leading to the first mansion!" 

"Okay..." Harry said, covering his head and shivering at the intensity of his father's actions. After making sure he had not hurt Harry physically, Severus threw back the spider silk sheets and stormed out of the bed, not believing how much like Lucien Snape he had just sounded. 

End Part Twenty-Five 


	26. Another Preborn Angel

﻿

**Remembrance and Renewal** by **Nigel Tatsuya** and **Avatar Arkmage**   
Chapter Twenty-Six: **Another Preborn Angel**

"KASE!" Voldemort summoned from his bed."More healing draught!" 

A very battered interim potions master emerged from the labs, and dragged his feet across the floor to the Dark Lord's bedside. "H-h-ere... sir." Broken from too many sessions under the Cruciatus curse, Justin's body faltered and convulsed violently. His speech was nearly incomprehensible, and his eyes ill focussed, as he handed Voldemort a phial of the special healing draught. 

The Dark Lord swallowed it quickly, and within minutes could move without nearly as much pain. Severus's potions always worked rapidly and worked well. It was curious though, Voldemort's wounds were not disappearing as quickly as they ought, considering that he had already ingested so many doses of the healing potion. "How much more of this draught is left?" 

"E-e-nough f-or nearly two week-s-s, my lord." Kase gasped. "Th-three if you use the more potions sparingly." 

"I will not!" The Dark Lord said, holding his wand dangerously close to Kase's face. "You will continue to work at duplicating this potion! If you cannot brew more within the next hour, you will once again feel the Cruciatus curse!" 

Although the interim potions master was a grown man, he broke down in sobs at the prospect of yet more torture. He had been allowed very little sleep since the day he had replaced Severus Snape in Voldemort's service, and endured several torture sessions each day. Some days, he was subjected to as many as seven sessions of the Cruciatus curse, which was more than even Wormtail received. 

Voldemort's healing potion was one of the most complex healing draughts he had ever attempted to replicate. Despite the fact that Severus typically wrote all of the formulations and methods of preparation in his immaculate handwriting on tomes in the labs, Justin found that he could not brew the Custom Healing Draught for Voldemort correctly. Only the best potion masters could get the timing and subtle preparation method perfect. 

As the dull pain from his unhealed wounds bore throughout his body, Voldemort truly regretted wounding Severus Snape so gravely. In truth, he would have enjoyed killing the traitor outright, but realized that he could not. Severus was just too proficient. His death would be an utter waste. 

Fifty-five minutes later, Kase ruined yet another potion. He hastily attempted to discard it, and begin another batch, but the Dark Lord hobbled into the laboratory. 

"Oh! No, please! Oh no!" 

Kase's screams echoed throughout the mansion in the ensuing moments.

* * *

"Father?" Harry began, leaning into his father's blonde haired head as they made their way down the pavement along a busy muggle street. "Since we're in muggle London, can we go and visit someone?" 

"A muggle friend?" 

"No...no, actually it's a wizard friend. Well, not a friend really...but..." 

"You would visit An unfriendly wizard? Ill-advised!" 

"It's Draco Malfoy." 

"Draco Malfoy?" Severus echoed in disbelief. "I would have thought you would prefer to sit in cages with Hagrid's dangerous creatures than talk to one another. " 

"Well," Harry said, shifting on his father's shoulder slightly, "we don't get on at all. I still don't like him very much, and he probably hates me." 

"Then why..?" 

"... when I looked like you in that muggle hospital, and Draco really thought I was you, he was quite different. It was almost as though he needed me, well needed you really. I felt almost bad to leave him there in that state. Before I left the hospital, I did say I would bring him some candies whilst he was at the muggle hospital." 

Severus turned his head so quickly that his sandy blonde wig shifted on his head. "And you intended to venture into muggle London as me once more?" 

Harry blushed, his face betraying his guilt. "Well...yes, I didn't quite work out how I would do that though, I'm too little to be you now, and any magical potions would kill me besides." 

"Hmrph!" 

"So can we please visit with Draco, father? He's probably expecting you to turn up..." 

"Why did you tell him you, or rather, I would...?" 

"Muggle hospitals can be a frightful place to be. I didn't know what else to say to comfort him." Harry swallowed hard. "Because they can't use magic, they have to use knives! And needles! The healers probably cut Draco open with their knives, sorted him out, then sewed him together again. And then, what if they sewed him up with bandaging material still inside..?" 

"Enough!" Try, though he did, Severus found that he could not be angry at his son. Harry was concerned about the well being of another, and because of the youth's graphic descriptions, Severus now feared for Draco's very life. "Very well, we shall purchase confections for Draco this afternoon. But first, we must meet with Headmaster Dumbledore and the others." 

"I wonder if they'll wear Town People disguises again?" 

"I believe so," Severus replied, readjusting his blonde wig and putting on his biker's hat once more. "It would appear rather odd if a biker is walking about with a group of robed people."

* * *

Because the exchange rate of wizard currency to muggle money was favourable, Albus and Minerva suggested they discuss matters over a meal at McDumbells. No one, not even Severus, could easily refuse, for they enjoyed the fried potatoes and fizzy drinks greatly. 

"I've got some special seeds from my son." YiChung said, taking a long drink of his cola. "If we plant these around the perimeter of your property, they will emit spores that will enhance the effectiveness of the wards, as well as repel muggles with a very dank smell. You do have a garden time turner system do you not?" 

"I shall have to set it up once more." Severus replied, taking a bite of his cheeseburger. "But yes, the seeds will be planted as soon as possible. By morning tomorrow the plants will be thriving." 

Remus put down his fish burger. He was about to tell Severus about the spell which would lead people to believe that the property was guarded by a pack of particularly vicious wolf/dog hybrids, when a group of bikers rode toward the McDumbells drive through window and ordered their lunches. As before, when they left with their orders, they all turned to Severus and said: "BYE DOUCHEBAG!" 

"Right then, now I am rather curious. What exactly is a dooshbag?" Severus asked to no one in particular. 

"I dunno." Harry stated. 

Minerva shrugged. "I've heard those people on the eccelectric transport devices call you a dushbag more than once, Severus. Perhaps it is nothing more than mistaken identity. Perhaps this Dushbag fellow is one of their mates, and you bear a resemblance to him." 

"Perhaps so," Filius nodded. "It must be an uncommon surname though. I have met no one with the surname Doushbag." 

"Perhaps it is not a name, but a thing or an animal?" Remus suggested. "Maybe it is in reference to the hide jacket Severus wears as a muggle?" 

"I think Dooshebags are something else entirely," Harry speculated. "It might be something they carry dooshes in, and they carry it in leather bags?" 

"Then what the devil is a dooshe?" Severus asked in exasperation. "An animal? A plant? A type of cured animal hide? A chap on an eccelectric transport device?" 

"As it must be a muggle item of some sort, perhaps asking a muggle would be the best course of action?" Albus deduced. 

"Oh! Then I'll ask Hermione!" Harry offered. "She's a muggle, and she's really smart. If it's a name, then maybe she knows someone named Dooshebag, and if it's a thing, well, she can tell me what it is exactly. And then, I can tell you what a doushbag is when I find out." 

All expressed interest at the prospect of Hermione's answer, as they finished their meal.

* * *

Arthur Weasley retreated to his makeshift 'garage.' Sometimes, with all the children home for the summer, the Burrow would become rather noisy, and Arthur would seek refuge in this place for a while, letting his muggle electronics collection offer him solace. 

Of late, he was drawn to this place for a much more pressing matter. 

"Papa?" came a soft voice. 

"You're awake!" Arthur made his way over to the antiquated crib, and gazed upon the child swaddled in homespun blankets within, with the same affection that he had bestowed upon all seven of his own children. 

The little girl, who Arthur had rescued from under a pile of rubble at the destroyed train station at Hogsteader, had healed quickly under his intensive nurturing. Along with others in the muggle relations department, Arthur had searched for the girl's parents, only to find them both dead beneath the wreckage not far from where the girl had been found. A search for other living relatives yielded nothing, and Perkins finally instructed Arthur to leave the girl at a muggle hospital where she could receive the treatment she needed, and the muggle social services could care for her afterwards. 

That was one order with which Arthur Weasley could not comply. He had ambled past the hospital at least six times, but in the end, returned home with the little girl still in his arms. 

"How are you feeling?" Arthur asked the toddler. 

"My head hurts." The child, who reminded Arthur so much of his own daughter Ginny, replied. "Can you make me better with your magic wand?" 

"Of course!" Arthur said, casting a healing charm to the girl's head. 

Whether it was the magic, or if it was because young children, muggle and otherwise believed in magic, the pain subsided and the girl treated Arthur to a broad smile. 

"Do you remember anything?" Arthur asked after handing the child a glass of milk and a sandwich he had smuggled from the kitchen when Molly wasn't looking. "Do you remember your name?" 

The girl only stared blankly at Arthur, her mouth bulging with the sandwich. 

"Well I don't know what to call you," Arthur lamented, leaning onto the railing of the crib. 

"Hey Dad," Ron said, looking from the doorway into the highly disordered room. "I wanted to talk to you, are you busy?" 

Arthur quickly stepped in front of the toddler, but not before Ron saw what his father was trying to hide. 

"Whoah!" Ron said, running around his father and peering into the crib. "Who is that?"

* * *

After returning to Snape Manor with Albus, YiChung, Minerva and Remus, Severus informed the others that he had a few errands to run with Harry back in town. 

"We will commence work on the wards." Minerva said, gazing over the perimeter of the well maintained grounds. "Many of the modifications will be in place by the time you return." 

"Should you need anything beforehand, inform Rastus." Severus said. 

Rastus nodded and skipped after YiChung, who was already magically tilling the ground next to the barriers separating the muggle street from Snape Manor. Harry watched in awe as Rastus quickly pointed at the ground and conjured what looked like the phosphorescent ghosts of the gardening tools he would require. Without moving his wrists, the ghostly picks began breaking up the soil and the rakes began clearing debris and uprooting the grass. Rastus mounted one of the shovels, whilst still directing the tools as though he were leading an orchestra, and began digging so fast that he seemed to be hopping on a muggle pogo stick. 

"Come along, Harry. There is something I must show you." Severus took Harry back into the manor and down a flight of stairs hidden under the bed in one of the unoccupied bedrooms. The stairs lead to an entirely underground area of Snape Manor. "You will need to know how to get into our vault." was the only explanation Severus offered. 

Severus led Harry into one of the darkest parts of the lowest level of the mansion. When they reached a washroom at the end of a long corridor, Severus walked up to the marbled wall and showed Harry a series of wand motions and incantations. After that, Severus pulled a loose tile from the floor and inserted it into what appeared to be a solid part of the wall. Harry took a few steps back as the wall rumbled and slid open, revealing great stacks of both wizarding and muggle currencies stored in the cave-like chambers. 

"This vault extends to the underground floor of the original Snape manor." Severus said, looking almost wistfully into the cavernous room. 

"The original Snape Manor?" Harry repeated. 

"There are wards in place that will not allow anyone to enter the original Snape Manor." Severus warned. "Likewise, there are wards in place that will prevent any...THING from the original Snape Manor from gaining entrance to this side." 

"But what THING from Snape Manor One could gain entrance to this side?" Harry asked, his interest piqued. 

"That is not your concern!" Severus snarled, effectively silencing any other questions Harry had on his lips. 

"In addition," Severus said, moving through the stacks of currency, "should you ever require it, this vault can also serve as a shelter." 

"Shelter?" 

"Yes, should the side of the light be defeated, or if the muggles use their destructive weapons in this area, or if you need to go into hiding for any reason, this vault can shield you and your progeny, even if both Snape manors collapse. The wards should keep this room from being destroyed." Severus said flatly. He walked over to a pile of bronze knuts and lifted a few stacks away, revealing cabinets all along the wall behind it. Severus opened one, and showed Harry the satchels of grains, dehydrated fruits and meats, bottles of drinks, jars of preserved vegetables, jellies and fruits, burlap bags of flours, hardtack breads and all sorts of other things Harry couldn't readily identify. "The cabinets keep its contents fresh, or in the same preserved states as they were when the items were first placed within them. You and your progeny can stay here for months, should you need to." 

Harry moved closer to Severus and leaned into his side. The room was so far beneath the ground that it was just as cold as the dungeons in Hogwarts. But Harry's soul had grown exponentially colder at Severus's last statement. "Father? What do you mean by you and your progeny?'" Severus planned to gloss over it, but was rendered silent by the sight of Harry's quivering lower lip. Evidently, it was a trait Harry had inherited from Severus, whose own lip trembled in just that way when he was greatly distressed. Severus was further appalled when Harry creased his brows in precisely the way he had seen Lily do on many occasions. 

"You're telling me this..." Harry took several short breaths before continuing, "...because you know you won't be with me much longer, am I right?" Harry buried his face in his father's abdomen. "You'll be killed? You'll be killed, just like all the other people I've ever loved?" 

"Harry...I" 

"Well I won't go into hiding!" Harry said with more defiance in his cadence than he ever dared use towards Severus in his teenaged form. "I'm going to make sure you stay alive." 

"But..." 

"JUST don't say it! Don't say it because you think it's what I want to hear!" Harry wailed in that tone that Severus could absolutely not stand. "I love you, father! I really love you. You and grandmum are all I have left in this whole world, and..." Harry squeezed his eyes closed, the tears coursing down his cheeks in undisciplined queues "...and if you're killed, I'm going straight to Voldemort and I'll beg him to kill me too!" 

"HARRY! I will not allow you to..." 

"NO!" Harry jumped up, clutched Severus's collar and pulled him into a kneeling position with the help of inertia and his own weight. "If Mouldyshorts kills you, I'm going to go straight to him and order him to kill me too. And if he doesn't, I'm going to anger him so that he'll want to kill me. And if he still won't, I'll challenge him to a duel...and I'll lose on purpose." Harry took his father's hand in his own and moved it over his heart. "Better he makes me die, because my heart will die if you're gone!" 

Severus's legs gave out, causing him to fall into a sitting position on the marble floor. Harry crawled onto his sire's lap and wrapped his arms so tightly around Severus's chest that he could not inhale fully. "Don't leave me, father. Please! Please don't ever leave me!" Harry bawled into Severus's neck. "I love you so much, father! You called me an angel so many years ago... You may have learned to live with an angel for a son... but I don't want to have only an angel for a father! Don't ask me to accept an angel for a father! It was difficult as it was to accept Lily and James Potter as only angel parents." 

"People think I'm so brave!" Harry clung tighter to Severus. "But I'm not so brave! People think I've coped well with only ghosts for parents. Even Hermione and Ron don't understand! They can't know how it feels to lose your parents, because they both have their parents. And...when Sirius...when I learned Sirius was my godfather... I was so happy!" Harry swallowed hard and sniffled before continuing. "And only a short time later...he... he..." 

Severus wrapped his arms around Harry, wishing that he knew how to soothe his tormented child. He had little experience in comforting another, let alone one who had been through as much as Harry had in his short life. Severus began to contemplate brewing a tranquillizer for Harry, then berated himself immediately for even thinking of such a thing. A tranquillizer would only minimize the symptoms, not the problem itself. "...OH SIRIUS! MOTHER! DAD! SIRIUS!" 

Even though the mention of his former rivals with his lover had stirred animosity within Severus in the past, he felt not a vestige of it now. He found himself actually grieving in tandem with Harry. Did Harry really feel things so acutely, or was he only having trouble coping because he was a child? Or was he suffering as much, if not more, as a sixteen year old and was only being more expressive of it now because he was child? 

"And..." Harry whimpered. "And what about Cedric's parents? I know it's hard to lose a parent...but how is it for Cedric's parents? What is it like to lose your child?" 

Although Severus knew he was supposed to be trying to comfort Harry, he felt the beginnings of tears in his own eyes. He knew just how hard it had been to lose a child. All those years of wondering what could have been. Always wondering what could have been done differently. The sight of another man with a child around Harry's age, aching more sharply than a venomous fang thrust directly through the heart...would his own death force his son away from him again? After knowing him for only a short time. 

Harry and Severus's time together had been a cool breeze through their hair in the fiery hell that had been their lives. 

"Ron and Hermione only thought I was being a grouchy git!" Little Harry said with a scowl that looked unnatural on a child's face. "They couldn't understand... I watched Cedric die, and people think I've coped well with his death, as well as with all the other deaths I've experienced." Harry pressed his face into Severus's chest. "But I haven't! People see only what they want to see! I'm not all brave and I still haven't fully accepted Lily and James being only angel parents. I am still angry that Sirius is only an angel godfather The mirror of Erised showed me that the greatest desire of my heart was having a real family. Like people all around me do." Harry's voice faded to a whisper, although to Severus, Harry's words reverberated as though he had been shouting. "Don't ask me to accept that you, my only family, will be gone soon as well!" Harry grasped the ends of Severus's hair and tugged hard on them. "I want to plant a tree before I return to being a sixteen year old boy, and I want you to live long enough to see that tree grow higher than the tallest arch of Snape Manor II's roof! I want you to stay flesh until I can fill Snape Manor II with more children than even Mr. Weasley has. I want you to live long enough for all my children to look at you and say that's my granddad and he's the best granddad in the whole world!'" 

Harry could not continue. His wracking sobs had all but usurped control of his vocal processes. He still had not released Severus's hair, and clung to the locks as though he were hanging precariously over a chasm of oblivion. 

Just beyond the stack of galleons directly behind Harry, Severus thought he saw the dim figure of a little girl, just a little younger than Harry was at the moment. The little girl had bright green, bespectacled, almond-shaped eyes, and an aquiline nose that seemed just a little too large for her small face. Although her glossy, raven hair was fastened neatly in jewelled ponytail holders, the ends revolted and spiked in every direction but the way it should have. She looked very much like the angelic version of Harry! 

The little girl apparition walked right through the stack of galleons and pointed to Severus. Although Severus could not hear her, he read her mouth movements and deciphered the words: "that's my granddad, and he's the best granddad in the whole world!" 

She had been listening! 

It wasn't until the little girl faded away, that Severus realized he had just met another preborn spirit. 

His own granddaughter. 

Severus stared silently toward the now very empty space near the stack of gold galleons, and wondered how long it would be before the little girl joined them in the world of the living. If she was to join them in the same time at all. He kept gazing in that direction, wondering if the girl would appear again. He could not understand why, but he wanted just one more glance at her. No, he wanted her to stay. Perhaps she was still there, invisible. Watching. 

"There was such peace in your eyes." Severus mouthed. "Were you born in a time after the Dark Lord was vanquished? Were you raised away from the magical world altogether? Did your eyes never see the violence your...your father and I have. Did your heart never know the dissension of war?" 

The empty space remained so. 

"Do you even exist on the same timeline we walk?" Severus continued mouthing toward the darkness, feeling a longing he had not thought himself capable of. "Or do you exist on an entirely different plane? A different reality where...where perhaps Lily had not died? A reality where I hadn't been forced to take the dark mark? Did you know your grandmother Lily, whose eyes you have inherited? Did the Dark Lord ever rise to power again? Do your father and I walk a path which you will not? Are we destined to ever meet?" 

The questions grew exponentially. From what Harry had told him, spirits existed unencumbered by timelines. Could a spirit not only jump to different points on the same timeline but literally jump from one timeline to another? Would this child ever exist on the same plane as Harry and Severus now did? 

Severus absently stroked Harry's hair as the boy continued to sob into his chest. Harry had been entirely unaware of the presence that had joined them for but a fleeting moment. Hopefully, Harry would have the opportunity to raise that lovely daughter to never lose the look of peace in her eyes. 

"I pray that I am not also a spirit when we next meet." Severus said silently, turning his attention back to Harry. Although Harry wasn't crying as fervently as he had been a few minutes ago, he was still trembling intensely. Severus still did not know what he could do for Harry. The boy was already so badly affected by death. Would Severus's own death break the last tenuous strand of the boy's soul? 

Was it a mistake to let the boy grow so close to him? Why did he allow Harry cling to him in the first place? Better he had just continued being a snarky git to Harry, and have the boy hate him. It was far simpler to have Harry hate him, after all. Why didn't he just continue to push Harry away in the first place? 

A voice deep within his own mind answered. "Because you've never stopped loving your little green eyed angel."

* * *

"Let us go," Severus said when Harry's whimpering finally subsided. He stood abruptly and lifted Harry to his feet. "We must go back to muggle London." 

"What are we going to do there?" 

"Did you not say you wanted to give Draco Malfoy some muggle confections? We cannot acquire those things here." Severus said, closing the storage cabinet. "And whilst there, we must also purchase some new clothes for you." 

"New clothes?" 

"Surely you do not enjoy wearing cast-off rags from your cousin? Or my shrunken clothes for that matter." Severus retorted, motioning to the empty buttonholes by Harry's collar. "You can barely button my white shirts and frock coats properly." 

Harry dashed away the remnants of his tears and took his father's hand. "Father." Harry said. "May we go to Gringott's bank?" 

"Whatever for?" 

"Since I'll have to buy new clothes and stuff..."Harry began. "I'll need to go to my vault and..." 

"As long as I am still living, I will provide for you. You may use what Lily and James left for you when..." 

"When what?" Harry asked, dreading what Severus was sure to say. 

"...at a later time." Severus said, as he filled purses for both Harry and for himself. "Do not forget how to enter the vault. It is useful for..." Severus stopped abruptly, as though choosing his words with caution. "..when you cannot make the trip to Gringott's. We have a vault there as well, should you need it. I will take you there another day."

* * *

Once in muggle London, they went to a sweet shop. Since Severus was unfamiliar with almost everything there, he followed Harry around the store and watched him pick out various confections. Severus then selected more of each item he saw Harry gathering. It would be a good idea to keep sweets at Snape Manor both for when sweet-toothed people like Albus came visiting, and when they wanted sweets themselves. He was very fond of those muggle chocolate bars with crispy rice inside. 

Seeing that Severus was only selecting items that he observed Harry choosing first, Harry laughed inwardly to himself. This would be fun! Harry went over to the display of Super Lemon candies, which were basically like sherbet lemons, but were so sour on the outside that only people with iron tongues could eat them. They were even more sour than actual lemons! 

"AAAAAAY!" shrieked the young storekeeper at the sight of the biker and his son approaching the counter. Severus concluded that the storekeeper was looking at the amount of candy they were purchasing and was imagining the high cost of getting artificial teeth once their real teeth fell out. "Not to worry," Severus said as he paid for the candies. "We weren't planning to eat all the confections at once." 

After leaving the sweet shop, Severus turned down a dark alley and shrunk the bags of candy before putting them in one of his leather biker jacket's many pockets. 

Harry deliberately slowed his already languid pace, and fell an even greater distance behind Severus on the busy London pavement. As he anticipated, Severus doubled back after a while and lifted Harry onto his shoulder. It wasn't really that Harry found it too daunting a task to keep up with his father's long strides, so much as he merely enjoyed the close contact that came with being carried high upon his father's shoulders, not to mention the view of the street over other people's heads. 

Harry grinned inwardly. He knew just how to make Severus do exactly what he wanted. He loved being carried, and knew that walking slower than normal was a sure way to earn a blessed ride on his father's shoulders. Severus entered a clothing store and set Harry down in the children's section. "Select whatever you wish to wear," Severus instructed. 

Not wanting to appear spoilt, Harry headed straight for the reduced price rack and picked out a few items he wanted to try on. 

Severus exhaled heavily and led Harry to the higher priced garment racks, and told him that he did not wish the boy to look like a pauper. Harry was no longer sure of his size, and was forced to try on items of many sizes before he found the one that would fit him. Severus then brought Harry more garments in that particular size to try on. 

When Harry finally emerged from the dressing rooms, he found that Severus had literally every item he could find in Harry's size, including a stack of underwear with stationary cartoon cats on it, hats and shoes, and was headed for the clerk. Although Severus vowed that he would not spoil Harry, he found it extremely difficult not to dote on him. And why not? He had missed out on sixteen years worth of doting, after all. And Harry needed new clothes didn't he? 

"YAAAAH!" screeched the young clerk, who was, like sweet shop storekeeper had been, intimidated by Severus' appearance. "Just take it! Don't kill me!" 

"Do not flatter yourself. I have no intention of killing you." Severus could not understand the clerk's curious behaviours. Surely he did not look THAT scary! Not even a first year was that terrified by his appearance. He handed the register drawer, that the clerk had thrust at him, back and waited for the clerk to total their purchases on that curious muggle accounting machine. The clerk finally did so, looking nervously at Severus all the while. 

More out of habit, rather than for protection, Hermione followed her parents to the hospital each day while they worked. With the exception of the Death Eater raids which occurred a few weeks ago, the magical world had been quiet during the summer, and Hermione enjoyed spending her days studying in the medical library. After studying for the entire morning, Hermione shelved some of the books she had been reading and walked out of the library with her nose in one of the books she had borrowed. 

She normally joined her parents in the cafeteria for lunch, and was a few minutes late. She hopped into the lift and keyed the floor to the cafeteria. The lift stopped on the paediatrics ward and Hermione, with her attention fully on the book in her hand, stepped aside to allow room for a nurse wheeling a fair haired patient to come aboard. 

"Granger!" Draco, who was being wheeled to the maxillofacial surgery ward to visit his father, sneered. 

"Malfoy!" Hermione said, looking up in surprise. Once again, she wondered what was Draco Malfoy, quite possibly the most prejudiced boy in her year, doing in a muggle hospital. Sure, St. Mungos was still quite full due to the raids, but surely Mrs. Malfoy would have done everything in her power to get her only child out of a muggle hospital as quickly as possible. She'd probably stop at nothing, even resorting to threats or bribery, if need be, to get Draco out of the hands of muggle physicians. Unable to contain her curiosity, Hermione turned once more to Draco. "What are you doing here anyway?" 

"None of your business, you filthy mu..." Draco stopped. "...uh girl!" Hermione stomped out the lift when it arrived on the floor to the cafeteria. Something was definitely amiss with Draco being in a muggle hospital. As Hermione ate with Dr. and Dr. Granger, she decided she would not return to the library after lunch to study, but would covertly investigate Draco's movements. She knew Draco, in all likelihood, was staying in the paediatrics ward since he was still a minor...but where was he going today? Weren't they headed for the maxillofacial surgery level? As there appeared to be nothing wrong with Draco's mouth or jaw, his skill at hurling insults was obviously in tact, he must have been going there to see some one. But who could it be? 

"So," Hermione's father said, putting some of his tapioca pudding in her plate. "What are you going to do this afternoon? Going to the mall?" 

"No, dad." Hermione replied, taking another bite of her vegetarian burger. "I'm going to do more studying." 

"Really dearest," Hermione's mother said, looking concerned as she ate another forkfull of green beans. "Don't you have friends you'd rather spend the day with? It's great that you love to study, but when I was your age, I used to have a lot of friends I'd enjoy going to parties or shopping with." 

"I've got friends!" Hermione protested, thinking of Ron and Harry. 

"Well do invite them over for dinner or a slumber party some time," Hermione's father said, sharing his wife's concern over his daughter's apparent lack of friends. 

"I will," Hermione said, " but for today, I'll be doing more studying." Studying Draco's movements, that is.

* * *

"Father," Harry began, leaning into Severus' biker hat and whispering into his ear. "Not that I'm not grateful or anything, but why did you buy me so much clothes? I'm only gonna stay little for one or two weeks more." 

"So change your clothes several times a day then!" Severus retorted, not wanting to admit that he had bought Harry all that clothing for no other reason than he really wanted to. "And when you return to your original size, you can enlarge the some of the items and still wear them." 

"True," Harry concurred. He really liked some of the slacks and shirts Severus had selected for him, and it would be a shame if he had to go back to wearing Dudley's old hand-me-downs when he returned to his former size. 

"Father?" 

"WHAT?" 

"Thank you for buying me those cat undercrackers." Harry said, grinning hugely. 

"Well you needed undergarments." Severus said dismissively. 

"Ever since I saw Cho's cat undercrackers, I've been wanting to wear some just like it." Harry said. "You think we can use spells to make the cats interact with us when the Interventio Interferous potion is out of my body? I think animated underwear is cool! And I wanna wear smalls just like Cho's." 

"What were you doing, perusing Miss Chang's animated cat knickers?" Severus asked. 

"Animated cat knickers? Ohhhhh! So you were looking at them too, weren't you?" Harry countered. 

"I most certainly was not!" Severus said, turning his head so fast toward Harry that his blond wig went crooked. 

"Yes you were!" Harry rebutted, finding the red colouration on his father's face amusing. "You said animated cat knickers,' I didn't say that, so you must have been looking at Cho's undies too!" 

"Uh...well of course I had no choice but to do so, she was right in front of me when...OH NEVERMIND!" Harry decided it better not to chance his father's enmity at this point. It was amusing to watch him try to explain his way out of the situation. So the dour Professor Snape looked at a girl's knickers, however unintentionally or intentionally. And why not? Harry reasoned. They were bloody cute undies on a bloody cute girl! Yes, even in his de-aged state he thought Cho was a cute friend. Harry could hardly wait until he could wear animated cat undies of his own. 

End Part Twenty Six 


	27. Of Slavery

**Remembrance and Renewal** by **Avatar Arkmage** and ** Nigel Tatsuya **   
Chapter Twenty-Seven:**Of Slavery**

Harry spent the greater part of the morning upon Severus's shoulders as they ventured from one muggle business to the next. They had just left the muggle apothecary, where Severus had purchased muggle medications for study, and tearless strawberry and grape scented children's shampoos and conditioners for Harry, for he still could not wash Harry's hair without getting shampoo in the boy's eyes. 

Harry was not even required to slow his pace once they were back on the pavement, for Severus automatically lifted Harry onto his shoulders after he had shrunken and pocketed their purchases. Whether it was out of sheer habit, or because Severus actually enjoyed carrying his son now, was uncertain. Harry did not care either way. All that mattered, was that he was with his father now, and was savouring every moment of it. 

From his high vantage point, Harry could better appraise the scores of people milling about the busy pavement. Some were apparently attempting to eat their lunches whilst rushing to go somewhere urgently. Others were leisurely gazing into each shop's window as they passed, time evidently mattering little to them. Still others were reading as they walked, and Harry hoped those people did not walk into a lamppost or stumble on the slightly uneven cobblestones. There was also a tall man walking in wide strides in their direction. He was bald, and had dark skin. He also looked very familiar! 

"Father!" Harry whispered in Severus' ear. "What's Kingsley Shacklebolt doing in Muggle London?" 

"Auror Shacklebolt? I am not inclined to inquire." Severus said, suddenly looking very uneasy. 

"Maybe he's here to buy muggle stuff, just as we are? Maybe he's going to the same apothecary we did for some shampoo?" Harry speculated. 

"Shampoo?" 

"Ah, then again, perhaps not." Harry said, thinking better of it. "Auror Shacklebolt does not have hair, so what would he do with shampoo, eh?" 

"Perhaps he might be here with other Aurors conducting an investigation of some sort." Severus shifted Harry from his shoulder and carried him against his chest. "Take care that he does not recognize you." 

"Who would recognize me like this?" Harry tousled his hair so that the fringe obscured his scar completely. He nestled his head just under Severus' neck, and faced away from the direction Kingsley Shacklebolt approached from. Harry then hugged Severus tightly and wrapped his legs around his father's slender waist. 

Severus then did something to make himself not recognizable even to Harry...he smiled hugely. A grin that would rival the Cheshire cat's of the story "Alice in Wonderland." To be sure, the smile looked about as natural on Severus's face as a satellite dish filled with fruit punch would look on Ron Weasley's head. It seemed almost painful for Severus to execute. Combined with the short blonde wig and the leather biker outfit, Harry decided that not even Albus Dumbledore would recognize Severus Snape straightaway. 

Kingsley Shacklebolt passed them, only sparing the father and son the smallest of glances. All the while, Harry kept his face hidden, while Severus kept the huge, even stupid looking grin firmly in place. 

It was enough to have Auror Shacklebolt walk away without being the wiser. 

Severus sighed, the dour look reappearing on his face moments after Shacklebolt disappeared through the doors of a nearby muggle business. Harry leaned his head against his father's chest once more and whispered: "You really look good beaming like that. I wish I could give you a reason to smile like that for real." 

This time, Severus only smiled inwardly whilst keeping his bilious expression in place. Harry did not know that he already gave Severus many reasons to smile for real. Just the survival of his little green eyed angel being one of them.

* * *

Instead of beginning their search of muggle hospitals for Draco, Severus and Harry returned to the manor once more. Harry was both relieved and a bit put down about it, but even he knew that they would have to take drastic measures to avoid being recognized by anyone. The brush they had had in town with Kingsley Shacklebolt was a little too close a call. What if they ran into some one who knew them better like the Abbots or the Creeveys next time? 

"I'm going to have to go in ahead of you," Severus stated when they returned to the unkempt property that led to Snape Manor. "Your body, probably cannot withstand the strengthened wards." 

Harry nodded, and sat on the pavement to wait. In the daylight, the abandoned lot looked significantly worse than it had the night before. The yard was overgrown with all varieties of weeds and brambles, and the dilapidated house looked as though it would collapse if even a small projectile grazed it. It was hard to believe, that just beyond what was visible from the street stood two glorious mansions amid an immaculately maintained lot. 

"Make haste, Harry." Severus' head appeared from within the tree, "All but the illusionary wards are down at the moment, you should be able to pass without much discomfort." 

After making sure no one was watching from the houses along the quiet street, Harry obediently dashed through the barrier and soon found himself back on the fragrant lawn of Snape Manor. 

"How are you feeling Harry?" Remus Lupin, who was standing just behind Severus, asked. 

"I'm only a little nauseous this time, thanks." Harry replied with relief. 

"That's very good to hear." Lupin said, patting the boy on the head. "We're nearly finished with the wards, so you'll need to be really careful around the perimeter of the lot." 

"I will, Professor Lupin, thanks for your help." Harry hugged his favourite professor before turning to follow Severus on the path toward the second Snape Manor. 

Severus kept his eyes focussed directly ahead of him, almost as though he were trying to avoid looking in the direction of the original Snape manor altogether. This action made Harry all the more intrigued. What was it with Snape Manor One? Was Severus's childhood so bad that it left him too traumatized to even look at the place he was raised in? Were there too many bad memories from that place and Severus was avoiding anything that could rekindle them? Was there something evil in Snape Manor one? Or, was there something Severus simply did not want Harry to see? 

If so, why did Severus not have Snape Manor One demolished? Although Harry could not quite understand why, he felt a strange sensation as he passed the first Snape Manor. He felt as though there were a presence observing him from its closed windows. 

When the sensation intensified, Harry stopped and turned toward one of the large windows near the North end of the original manor, half expecting to see some one staring back at him. 

"Harry!" Severus shouted, the colour in his already sallow face turning at least a shade paler. He dashed back to his son, lifted him into his arms as though he were an infant, and hauled him quickly back toward the second manor. "Come along!" 

The sight that greeted Harry and Severus as they entered the kitchen of Snape Manor Two was bizarre to say the least. On the brightly polished tiles of the kitchen floor sat two little boys, only slightly older than Harry currently was. 

They were gleefully engaged in a game of tug of war with what appeared to be homemade taffy. Harry was about to beg Severus to let him down so that he could play with other children, when he noticed that the boys were dressed as though they were from a different era entirely. One of the boys wore silky, red, Asian-style robes and had glossy, perfectly straight, long black hair which was partially fastened in an elaborate topknot, while the rest of the hair was either plaited or allowed to cascade freely down his back. The other boy wore old-fashioned European-style robes with a matching hat and had very long, slightly wavy auburn hair which was fastened in a loose ponytail. 

Harry immediately recognized the boys. 

"Professor Dumbledore!" Harry gasped in disbelief after Severus set him on the floor. "Grandpa Chang!" 

Although barely recognizable in their drastically de-aged forms, The two boys turned toward Harry and smiled at him. "Join us?" asked Albus. 

"Come and play!" YiChung seconded. 

Harry eagerly sat beside the two boys and quickly turned the game into a three way tug of war. 

"Good heavens!" Professor McGonagall said upon entering the kitchen, and eyeing he boys on the floor with mock disapproval. "Let me guess what happened. YiChung tried to retaliate for all the times Albus played dirty tricks on him and either tricked you into drinking a potion or cast a de-aging spell on you! And being the experienced wizard you are Albus, you cast your own spell in return simultaneously and now you both are stuck in this form for a while?" 

"You are correct, Minerva." The boy Albus nodded, his blue eyes twinkling. "It seems YiChung has finally retaliated successfully against me... partially." 

"Ohhhh! I'll get you someday, Albus, just you wait! And you won't even be ready to retaliate next time." YiChung said, offering Minerva some taffy. 

"We shall see." Albus said, smiling as he took a bite of the freshly made buttery taffy. "But now that we are both little more than infants, our magics are weak, and we will have to learn to make due for the moment, as we cannot change ourselves back without help." 

"I am not inclined to help you!" Professor McGonagall snapped in an austere manner as she gratefully accepted a chunk of finished taffy from YiChung. "And I will talk to Remus and Filius to make sure they don't help you either. You two are going to have to learn to deal with the consequences of your childish pranks!" 

"You mean we gotta stay kids?" YiChung asked, starting to snivel. 

"What will my grandchildren and the students say?" Albus started whimpering. 

"Perhaps you can tell them that you are an example of what comes of too many pranks." Severus was somewhat appalled at the state of his kitchen, which looked like his lab usually did if one of the dunderheads blew up a caldron. Still, he had never expected to see Albus as a child, and found the sight almost comical. 

"I hope you do not mind, good sir." Rastus said, frantically wiping powdered sugar off of the wood stove. "When Professor Dumbledore and Professor Chang turned into little ones, Rastus be thinking they would enjoy some taffy after their lunch so Rastus made some." 

"You've done well," Severus said, helping himself to a chunk of finished taffy on a tray on the counter. 

Harry took a bite of the homemade taffy and thought that he would never want to eat the commercially produced variety ever again. It was flavoured with a little vanilla and tasted heavily of the butter used to pull the confection. Who would have guessed that taffy could ever taste so good?

* * *

Hermione remembered seeing the nurse, who was transporting Draco, key the maxillofacial surgery floor on the elevator. Hermione did the same, wondering if Draco would still be in that ward. It seemed odd that Draco would be in a muggle hospital at all, and even more odd that Draco would be visiting anyone here. He had to be visiting a patient here, Hermione deduced, as Draco's own jaw was neither bruised nor bandaged. Pureblooded wizards avoided muggle hospitals if at all possible, and a family like the Malfoys would especially not have muggle friends to visit here. 

Trying to look as inconspicuous as possible, Hermione moved slowly down the corridors. She carried her borrowed medical texts high, hoping that the staff on duty would only believe her to be a medical student doing practical study, and not be very suspicious. Using her bushy hair to obscure her actions, Hermione stole covert, sidelong glances into the patient's rooms, looking for that pale blonde boy and for the identity of the patient he was visiting.

* * *

Because Lucius had always been so busy with his underhanded dealings with the ministry, and his clandestine activities with the Death Eaters, he had never had much time to spare for his only child Draco. What he did not give in time, he gave in material items, as though he were trying to retain his son's adoration and loyalty through the same bribery he used toward his colleagues and cohorts. 

Lucius could not do that now, and Draco used the opportunity to collect his own recompense in time with interest. 

"Father," Draco said, seating himself in the chair next to Lucius's bed. "I know you can't answer me right now, but I've been wanting to tell you something for a while now." 

Unable to answer, Lucius just stared at Draco, urging him to continue with his undivided attention. "Don't get me wrong father, I still hate mudbloods and would never foul the Malfoy bloodline with mixed-blood whelps, and would disinherit any child of mine who did that." Draco stated with his condescension firmly in place. "But what I really want to say..." 

Lucius didn't seem too far behind Draco's train of thought. 

"...Father, Idon'tlikethewaytheDeathEatersdothings." Draco said quickly, as though it would generate less of Lucius's wrath if he did so. Now that he had started, he continued at a rapid pace, saying everything that had built up in his mind over the last few weeks. "I'd just as soon never look at a stinking mudblood in Hogwarts again, but do we really have to torture and kill them? Can we not just IGNORE those repugnant muggles altogether? Just let them live in the smelly dungheaps they call houses, and breed like the dogs they are? It's not as though WE HAVE to kill them or anything, we see how incompetent their healers are, it's a wonder the lot of them are not already dead." Draco leaned into Lucius's bed, his arm pressing against his father's. "What I'm saying is, I don't want to go about beating and killing people just because of what they are. If they are sell-outs like the Weasleys and Potter, well that's different. Mock them perhaps, but I'd not want to kill them, even though the Weasleys have so many children that they probably wouldn't notice right away if one was killed." 

Draco gingerly reached for his father's hand, and to his delight, Lucius did not pull away. "I really don't like the manner in which The Dark Lord hammers his own people if they fail at something. I often become angry at Crabbe and Goyle when they err, then again, it's their nature to do err, but I don't want to subject them to the cruciatus curse or anything. Only a real whoreson would get his jollies beating on those under him. And beating on their families too? I heard you begging The Dark Lord not to pummel me and mum. I would never hammer Crabbe's mum or dad, no matter how many times he botches things up, and I'd never hurt his future wife or his kids. Even if I had the power to do that, I would not." 

Lucius looked at his son, with apparent wonder in his storm grey eyes. He had been contemplating similar things ever since he, Narcissa and Draco had been subjected to the Dark Lord's Wrath. He was hardly willing to give up tormenting the muggles altogether, but his time in the muggle hospital made him less keen on torturing or killing them outright. Although some of the muggle treatments were uncomfortable, and sometimes even painful, Lucius knew that they were doing nothing purely out of cruelty, but merely because they lacked the ability to wield magic and had to compensate with their crude technologies. 

Those technologies were not always so bad besides. Lucius was even considering the purchase of a muggle telly box, as he had been ignoring Narcissa of late. To spend all of her days in the large mansion all alone. Being in the muggle hospital, with no one but the staff members and an occasional visit from Draco for company, made Lucius realize just how lonely Narcissa must have been. Narcissa would surely enjoy the company of a muggle telly box. 

Draco motioned to the Dark Mark on his father's now exposed arm. "Good job muggles are fond of decorating their own bodies. They probably thought that The Dark Mark was only a tattoo or a brand. I saw some pretty horrid skull tattoos on a muggle programme about bikers." Draco's sneer faded. "Can you do nothing to be rid of the Dark Mark, father? I know you probably don't want to leave the Death Eaters, but I'm sure you don't want them to hurt me or mum like this again." Draco suddenly looked worried. "You know, I've not been allowed to visit mum yet..." 

Lucius feebly lifted himself into a seated position, his storm coloured eyes wide. "Mmmmph!" 

"No, they haven't let me see her yet." Draco frowned. "They won't even tell me if she's alive. I've begun to fear the worst." 

"MMPRRPH!" Lucius clutched the bed railing firmly. Where was Narcissa? Was she all right? 

"Oh, father." Draco sighed, his characteristic condescending cast all but gone. "They haven't told you about her either? 

For several minutes, both father and son exchanged worried glances. Unable to offer words of comfort to his son, Lucius painfully raised his arm and placed a hand on Draco's shoulder. 

Not accustomed to comforting gestures from Lucius, Draco momentarily recoiled. Whenever Draco had been worried about anything in the past, Lucius would often promise Draco a new broom, or an enchanted toy. Failing that, he would simply hand Draco a few galleons to spend at Diagon alley. Now all Lucius could offer was what little silent reassurance he could spare, whilst being so worried himself. 

"Oh father," Draco said, any shadow of his normally feigned bravado missing from his face. "I'm so worried about mum. And if The Dark Lord killed her..." Draco's condescending cast reasserted itself. "... well then I absolutely want no part of the Death Eaters. How do you know next time big Crabbe and big Goyle won't break your neck instead of just your jaw? And what if next time you fail The Dark Lord, he has me killed instead of just roughed up to punish you?" 

Lucius squeezed Draco's shoulder lightly. 

"We don't need them! Don't you see, father?" Draco scowled as though he were smelling untreated sewage. "We could lure members of the current Death Eaters away and start our own organization. You and me! Of course you'd have to be hidden from them, but you could still be my guide! After all, who better to lead an organization of purebloods than other purebloods like us?" 

Lucius squeezed Draco's shoulder once more, pride swelling within him. This was his son, a true Malfoy and a true Slytherin to the core. 

"You may no longer be free in the wizarding world, but I can continue the Malfoy legacy for you." Draco said proudly. "We can still influence the wizarding community! Potty may have put you in Azkaban, but the Malfoy Clan as a whole is not ruined yet! You can teach me what you used to do, and we'll still be a powerful influence in the wizarding community! We'll keep those filthy muggles out of our affairs, and out of our world! The magical world will be so much better without their kind meddling with our laws and muddying the waters. If they want to go to magical schools, they can bloody build their own!" 

Hermione reached the doorway to Lucius Malfoy's hospital room and gasped when she saw who it was that Draco was visiting. "Lucius Malfoy!" Hermione thought, her face aghast. "What is he doing out of Azkaban? And why is he in a muggle hospital! Did Draco help him escape? Did they both get injured in the process? After all the crimes Lucius did, he did not deserve his freedom!" She pulled back slightly so she would not be seen by the occupants of the room, but could still hear the one-sided conversation clearly. 

Caught up in it all, Draco wrapped his arms around Lucius's injured form, as he had done when he was much younger, although no less proud of his father than he was at the moment. "And when we get back our influence over the ministry, and have the best of the current Death Eaters at our beck and call, we'll keep right on working. And we won't stop until we have our organization's finest in the seat of the Minister of Magic! Mudblood lovers like Albus Dumbledore and Arthur Weasley will either have to comply with our directives or else they'll lose their posts! We don't need the current Death Eaters, we'll build our own, better, more intelligent and more powerful Death Eaters! And when we're finished, those filthy mudbloods will never set foot in Hogwarts again!" 

Hermione had heard enough. She angrily pursed her lips together so tightly that the colour from them vanished completely. She knew what she had to do now, and was glad that she was in London. She would board a bus, quickly make her way to the Ministry of Magic headquarters, and tell them exactly where to find Lucius Malfoy. 

At the sound of angry breathing behind him, Draco turned in time to see to see a bushy brown head moving away from the doorway. 

"GRRANGER?" Draco shouted, barely able to contain his indignation. How much had she heard? How dare she eavesdrop on their conversation regardless! Draco jumped out of his wheelchair and gave chase, fully intending to catch up with Hermione and retaliate stoutly against her for her excessively meddlesome tactics. All too soon, Draco found that he was hindered drastically by his own injuries. He forced himself to run, every step causing his body to hurt as though a score of bone breaker curses were upon him. 

Her stratagem uncovered, Hermione raced toward the fire escape without looking behind her once. She had to get to the ministry and tell them exactly where to find Lucius Malfoy. She had to tell them where they could arrest him, and they would have to act quickly, before Lucius could find another means of escape. 

Draco forced his battered body onward, the realization of what Hermione was bound to do terrifying him to no end. Mudblood Granger was a no-good tattle tale. She even told on Potty and Weasel when they committed infractions on the rules at Hogwarts, after all. She was bound to go straight to the ministry and tell them where they could find Lucius Malfoy. Lucius could not go back to Azkaban! He just couldn't! The dementors would kiss him for sure this time. And because of who he was, the other prisoners would beat him or worse. Draco forced back thoughts of what Lucius' brief time in Azkaban must have been like and ran as fast as he could. 

"Urff!" Draco exclaimed when he lost his footing and slammed onto the floor. 

Hermione sighed with relief at the heavy sound of flesh striking the tiles. Draco had fallen, thereby granting her the opportunity to run into the fire escape, and rapidly descend the stairs. In most cases, she would have stopped to render aid, but time was of the essence, and Draco was in a hospital besides. Help was not far away. Thanks to her heroic intervention, Lucius would be back in Azkaban by nightfall.

* * *

"Come along Harry," Severus said, once Minerva, Remus, Filius and the de-aged Albus and YiChung left. "We must alter your appearance if we are to visit Draco." 

"Alter my appearance?" Harry said, sitting on the chair that Severus led him to. 

"Since it would too dangerous for Draco to have the knowledge that Harry Potter is my son," Severus began, laying out palettes of what appeared to be makeup and paintbrushes. "We will explain that you are my son, Harry Snape." 

"But won't Draco wonder how you got a child..?" Harry stopped suddenly, "Oh... he'll just assume that since you're a Death Eater like his father, you probably got some woman pregnant whilst on a raid and..." Harry's expression turned sad. "And you only found out that you had a child recently." 

Severus's face remained impassive, although he cringed inwardly, at the thought of what Draco was bound to think of him. 

Rastus scampered into the room with a box of what appeared to be strands of hair in virtually every colour, styling implements and jar of a putty like compound. The very human-like house elf then sectioned off some of Harry's hair and applied the putty with a small brush and attached a few of the long, black hair strands to Harry's own hair. 

"Wow!" Harry said, looking at the completed section. " It looks like real hair! Like my own hair! How did you learn to do that so well?" 

"We house elves must to be making our masters look pretty so we learn how to do hairstyles and makeup." Rastus replied, adhering more strands of black hair as he spoke. 

While Rastus worked, Severus applied a greasy base over Harry's scar, then began brushing a powder closely resembling Harry's skin tone over it, effectively concealing the scar completely. 

His interested piqued, Harry quickly stated that he was curious about certain matters, as he watched Rastus continue creating very convincing shoulder length hair. 

"Ask anything you like, Rastus will try to answer." The eager human-like elf said, combing a newly applied lock of hair. 

"Rastus, you don't look like any of the other house elves I've ever seen. You look... well you look almost like a human..." 

"AAah!" Rastus shuddered and dropped a swatch of black hair to the floor. "Rastus is a house elf! Rastus is not a human." 

"I'm sorry, I did I offend you?" Harry said, closing his eyes as Severus applied some base to his eyebrows. " I didn't mean to offend you, really I didn't. I was just wondering that's all." 

Harry watched as his father began to brush a pale powder all over Harry's face, rendering his skin very pale and sallow. "Father, remember when I said I saw some of your past when I was recovering from being almost drowned?" 

Severus nodded. 

"Why did I never see a house elf at Snape Manor?" 

"Because we had no house elves then. Your grandmother and grandfather were both cast out of their families, and therefore did not inherit the services of their family's elves." Severus said, carefully applying a dark powder to Harry's brows. 

"So how did you get Rastus?" Harry asked. "And why does he look so much like a human? Does he have human blood?" 

For a few moments, both Severus and Rastus exchanged uncomfortable glances. 

"As Rastus will someday be young Snape's house elf, Rastus thinks young Snape should be told." 

Severus nodded. "Are you sure you want him to know?" 

"Rastus trusts young Snape very much." Rastus stopped to gently comb Harry's extended hair before continuing to attach more strands. 

Severus sighed, as though what he was about to convey was a cause of great embarrassment. "Harry, one of the things you should know about the wizarding world, is that our books, especially history books, sometimes omit facts and occurrences that are determined to be too shameful to be made widely known." 

"Oh! Like how muggles frequently write revisionist histories in their schoolbooks?" Harry asked. "They make their own countries sound peaceful whildy making others sound like they are full of mean killers?" 

"I would not know what the muggle textbooks say, but you're probably right." Severus continued applying the powder to Harry's face as he went on. "One of the shameful things that wizarding families used to sometimes do was to impregnate their house elves to ensure a high census of servants in their households." 

Rastus cringed slightly, but nodded to Severus to continue. "As you can imagine, it got to the point that house elves were starting to look more and more human...with features very much like the wizarding families that they were serving." 

"But wouldn't house elves with human blood have a higher status since they were part human?" Harry asked. 

"No, even one drop of elf blood made you a servant." Severus said in disgust. "you can imagine after centuries of breeding in that way, there were house elves who were virtually indistinguishable from humans." 

"There were also brothels in hidden places throughout the wizarding world, as part-elfs were thought to be more beautiful than either pure elves or pure humans. The highest prized prostitutes were the quadrelves, females and young males who were only one quarter elf and three quarters human. Some wizards even paid thousands of galleons for a quadrelf, which they kept for the purpose of..."Severus stopped, as though he were choosing terms suitable for a child. "...inappropriate forms of recreation." 

"Just about a hundred and fifty years ago, the Ministry of Magic finally put a stop to the elf brothels and made owning elves that weren't pureblooded elves illegal, and attempting to reproduce with a house elf a crime." 

Harry's face went pale. "So what did they do with the mixed blooded elves who were already alive?" 

"They were slaughtered." Severus whispered, unable to meet Harry's eyes. 

"Then Rastus..." 

Nearly all of Harry's hair was extended now, and Rastus only adhered stands to the areas that appeared thin. The elf replied, once again brushing out Harry's extended hair. "Rastus is an octarelf. Rastas had a quardrelf mum, and a great-grandmother who was a pureblooded elf." 

Rastus began to add strands more quickly now, "Master Severus, may I have permission to tell young Snape the rest?" 

"It is your story to tell." Severus nodded as he began to brush powder lightly over Harry's neck. 

Rastus pointed a thin finger in the air and drew a large circle, the circle floated a few metres in front of Harry and began to project images like a great pensieve. In it Harry saw an estate far grander than either of the Snape Manors. The house was more richly furnished and its rooms were larger in size. Harry wondered for a moment if he were looking at Malfoy Mansion, but saw an entirely different, though equally wealthy, family in the images. The fact that their faces were somewhat blurred, led Harry to conclude that either the elves preserved their master's anonymity or else elves just never looked their masters in the face. "Rastus has served his family for over fifty years, but in that time Rastus has had to hide himself so no one would know about him, because masters should not be keeping elves with human blood." 

The images of Rastus cooking in kitchens without windows, and washing clothes in what appeared to be a darkened basement flashed within the elf's spherical pensieve. "One day, about eighteen years ago, the master got word that the ministry be raiding the master's house, so his family gathers all us mixed blood elves together and..." 

Rastus could not continue and began wailing, but the 'pensieve' resumed the narrative where the elf could not. Harry saw not only the head wizard and witch of the house, but the children too, assail the mixed elves with large stones, decapitating them with crude axes and impaling them on swords. 

Harry averted his eyes at the carnage. "That's so mean! And why didn't they use killing curses? Why did they have to kill the elves in such painful ways?" 

"If master uses the killing curse, the ministry will know. So master's family must kill without magic." Rastus whimpered. "Because Rastus has so much human blood in him, the young master was to kill Rastus." 

Harry gaped in horror at the sight of a boy who looked to be about eleven or twelve years old dragging Rastus into an area on the grass, far from the grand mansion. Rastus wore nothing but a wretched bed sheet which looked like an oversized toga on the elf's lithe body. 

"Forgive me, Rastus." The young wizard sobbed, removing the hat from his own brown haired head and placing it on the elf's head. "At least you'll die free." 

The boy wrapped a cord around Rastus's neck and proceeded to strangle him. Rastus gasped in pain and struggled to draw a breath, but obediently endured the harsh treatment. 

"No Rastus, don't look at me like that. I'm doing this because I like you, and I don't want you to suffer too much." The wizard sobbed. It was obvious to Harry that Rastus had not only been a servant, but a friend to the young wizard boy. "If you are set free, you'll be killed because you're only partially elf. So just die! Rastus, just die quickly!" 

Tears washed tracks of powder off of Harry's face, as the realization that the wizard boy was really killing his own relative, perhaps his own brother dawned. Rastus and the wizard boy had virtually the same colour hair and almost the same complexion. Rastus obediently hacked and coughed, but did not struggle to escape the young wizard's choke hold. 

"YOU FOOLISH BOY!" came a harsh voice from behind the young wizard. "That is no way to kill a house elf! You will learn to do this right even if I must beat it into you!" Harry cringed as he watched what could only be the boy's father remove his belt and thrash the boy until his clothes were riddled with bright red stains. 

"Please father!" the boy screamed as his father beat him mercilessly. "I can't do it any other way! I love Rastus like a brother." The young wizard broke down and cried harder after his father punched him squarely in the face, causing his nose to bleed profusely. "HE IS MY BROTHER ISN'T HE!" 

Harry watched the scene in horror, how much like Severus and Lucien the son and father in the pensieve were. "You will not refer to a slave... a lowly house elf as a brother!" The father said, virtually emphasizing each word with a blow. 

In defiance of his former master, Rastus jumped onto the boy, shielding him with his own body. "No more hurting the young master!" Rastus yelled. 

"YOU DARE!" The elder wizard screamed, turning his aggressions fully on Rastus. "I curse the day I purchased your quadrelf mother and made YOU!" 

Harry shut his eyes. For what seemed like an eternity, all Harry could hear was the elf's very human cries. And then Harry heard a very familiar voice...his father's, resonating from within the elfin pensieve. 

"Thank you for coming." The wizard said to what appeared to be a mediwizard standing next to a younger Severus Snape. "My son seems to have fallen off of his broom again." 

"Well tend to him straightaway." The Mediwizard said, following the lord into the great mansion. "This is, Severus Snape, one of my most brilliant students from the University. He has been developing new healing potions which could bring about your son's rapid recovery." 

Harry could barely repress his anger. The boy had not fallen off of a broom, he had been beaten. How Harry wished he could tell the Mediwizard and the younger version of his father that. 

When Harry finally returned his attention to the elf's pensieve he saw Severus and the Mediwizard leaving the mansion, looking relieved. Harry beamed with pride. Severus's potions must have saved the boy's life. 

Once they were out of the lot, the mediwizard bid the young Severus Snape goodbye and apparated away. Severus looked as though he were about to apparate away as well, but stopped when he heard someone crying. He doubled back to the source of the cries and came upon Rastus who was pinned to a tree with a long sword through his chest. The elf looked as though he had been beaten with a heavy, blunt object, and had been stabbed numerous times. 

"Who would do this to a child!" the younger Severus mumbled under his breath and appraised the sword still in the elf's chest. 

Rastus's hat fell off, revealing his pointed ears. "You're part elf?" Severus asked. 

"Please good sir." Rastus sobbed, crumpling toward the ground, causing the sword to cut deeper into his flesh. "Please help Rastus to die. Take the sword and stab Rastus in the heart until Rastus is dead. Or cut off Rastus's head." 

"WHAT?" young Severus yelled incredulously. "I most certainly will not!" 

"Please sir." Rastus whimpered. "Help Rastus to die. Rastus is not allowed to live sir. Rastus must..." the elf's eyes went glassy. "...die..." 

Harry cheered out loud when he saw young Severus carefully remove the sword from the elf's chest and wrap the elf in his University robes. The memory in the pensieve flickered out when Rastus finally lost consciousness in young Severus's arms. 

"Young Snape, your father, is a saint!" Rastus proclaimed with tears in his large eyes. "Even though Rastus is not supposed to be living, your father would not let Rastus die. He brought Rastus back to Snape Manor and took care of Rastus until Rastus was well again. And because Rastus has nowhere else to go, Master Snape lets Rastus serve at Snape Manor and will let Rastus stay forever." 

Harry smiled broadly at Severus, "You're wonderful, father!" 

Severus dismissed the praise. "It was no more than anyone else would have done." 

"You always say that! You could have left Rastus to die, but you didn't. You could have killed Rastus to put him out of his misery, but you didn't. And you could have abandoned Rastus after he healed, but you let him stay! We know better, you are wonderful !" Harry said, putting an arm over the house elf's shoulders. 

"Ah, but...I needed a house elf... and I can't upkeep the manors whilst I'm at Hogwarts." Severus said, fending off more adoration. 

Harry just smiled at Rastus as the elf began adding reddish strands to simulate natural highlights in Harry's hair. "Well I like you a whole lot, Rastus! And I'm glad father is letting you stay here for the rest of your life." 

"And I am eternally grateful to the wonderful Severus Snape!" Rastus said, putting away the extra hair strands and the implements. "Master Severus never beats, or speaks harshly to Rastus. He is the kindest and greatest wizard Rastus has ever met! Rastus will serve the great Master Severus and his children and grandchildren forever!" 

"You're so right!" Harry seconded. "Father is GREAT!" 

"Oh cease your infernal tributes to me! I did nothing deserving of such accolades. I wanted to test my skills at making healing draughts for humans with the blood of other species and I needed a house elf to maintain Snape Manor besides." Severus said, avoiding looking in Rastus and Harry's direction altogether. 

"Whatever you say, father!" Harry said, winking at Rastus. 

"All that I ask," Severus said, turning his back to Harry, "is that you never dismiss Rastus. He is free to go if he wishes, for he is properly clothed. But I've promised him a home in Snape Manor for the rest of his life, and you must make your children promise to never tell others of Rastus's existence or send him away." 

"I promise, father." Harry said, hugging the sobbing house elf. "To me, he's not my servant, but a member of my family! One of the Snape family." 

"Young Snape! You be every bit as wonderful as your father!" 

"Will you two just shut up!" Severus scowled, still avoiding Harry's adoring eyes as he stomped out of the room. 

Rastus and Harry exchanged grins.

* * *

The sun had long since set when Severus and Harry finally located the right hospital. They had been to several others, only to be met by blank faces when they asked for 'Draco Malfoy's room.' 

"Do you think Draco likes Chocolate covered macadamia nuts?" Harry asked. 

"I don't know." Severus replied, ducking slightly to avoid banging Harry's head into a low doorway to the pediatric ward. "Did you not ask him?" 

"No, I didn't ask him what kind of candy he liked." Harry said, crouching low to avoid hitting his head on one of the signs in the corridor. "I just said I'd...well you... I mean I said I would bring him some candy to make him feel better. He was really scared of coming to a muggle hospital. He thought the muggle doctors would cut him up and stuff." 

"Don't they indeed 'cut people up?'" Severus whispered. 

"Well they do, but not to be mean or anything like that. They only do it if they have to fix something inside you, but they can't reach it from the outside. They can't use magic, after all." Harry replied. 

Severus set Harry on the floor when they reached the room the ward clerk said Draco would be in. The door was open, and Severus sighed in relief at the sight of the pale blonde head just above the covers. 

"Draco," Severus called softly, knocking on the door and walking in with Harry lagging behind. As little as Harry was at the moment, he still held a considerable amount of animosity toward his one time rival. This had been the boy who had teased and tormented him shortly after his reintroduction to the wizarding world. This was the boy who had insulted his two best friends, Ron and Hermione, for years. 

Yet strangely, Harry could not find it in his young heart to bring any of that former hatred to the surface. Something seemed very wrong with Draco at the moment. 

Draco was laying face down on the bed, only the upper part of the blond head visible. At first, Severus and Harry concluded that Draco must have been asleep, and planned to leave the candy with a note indicating that they had visited. But the teen was trembling far too much to be sleeping. 

Harry kept his distance, even as his father moved closer to the youth. 

"Draco?" Severus spoke once more, gently placing a hand on his godson's shoulder. 

Draco only responded by trembling more intensely. 

"Draco, it is I." Severus said, feeling along the youth's body to determine the extent of his injuries. After finding no injuries that could prove threatening, Severus carefully turned Draco onto his back. 

The look on the pale teen's face was unlike anything Harry had seen before. Where Harry was accustomed to seeing sneers or haughty glowering, there remained only a look of undiluted terror. Draco's pale blue-grey eyes were wide, his cheeks were virtually colourless, and his lips were trembling fiercely. He looked as though he had seen something utterly horrifying and could not get over the shock of it all. 

"Oh Merlin!" Harry thought to himself. "What if the muggle doctors had been bad to Draco after all? He doesn't look well!" 

Severus gently cradled Draco in his arms, whispering gentle words that Harry could not quite decipher into in the pale boy's hair. "Draco, I've brought you the confections my...I promised to bring for you. My son Harry wanted very much to meet you as well." 

After nearly half an hour of coaxing, an infinitesimal measure of fear abated from Dracos face. He still looked as though he had seen something terrifying and was still in shock, but he regained the ability to speak. 

"What is wrong, Draco?" Severus pressed, "tell me?" 

"FATHER IS DEAD!" Draco replied somewhat flatly, though stridently. 

End Part Twenty-Seven 


	28. Discordant Note

**Remembrance and Renewal** by** Nigel Tatsuya** and **Avatar Arkmage**   
Chapter Twenty-Eight: **Discordant Note**

"So," Dr. Herman Granger began, ladling a rich brown gravy onto his daughter's plate of roast meat and potatoes, "how was your day, princess? I hope you didn't spend all of it studying, there's a lot of fun to be had that cannot be found printed on texts." 

Dr. Hyperione Granger rolled, then narrowed her eyes at her spouse in much the same way Hermione often did to Harry, Ron and anyone else who was doing something that she perceived to be immature or just plain disagreeable. "Dear, did you learn anything new that you'd like to share with your father and me? Any breakthroughs in pharmacology? Or how about in your magical studies? Any new spells you care to tell us about?" 

"No," Hermione replied, quickly stuffing two slices of roast in her mouth and hoping that her parents wouldn't ask her to elaborate. Both Dr. and Dr. Granger regarded their daughter with equal measures of concern. Ordinarily, Hermione would enthusiastically recount the day's events and share whatever new knowledge she had garnered. Although half of what their daughter had to share was difficult to follow and/or understand, especially in matters pertaining to the magical world, they enjoyed the interaction greatly and looked forward to it during those all too infrequent times they had during the day as a family. 

Sensing their uneasiness, Hermione decided that redirecting the conversation would be the best course of action. "What about you? How about sharing some of your new knowledge with me? The discipline of endodontics specifically..." Hermione paused to think of a specific topic. "Has there been any progress in implicating the virus found in certain incidences of oropharyngeal Squamous Cell Carcinoma?" 

Upon hearing a topic near and dear to both their hearts, Dr. and Dr. Granger began sharing all the information they had on the topic, telling the details in a point and counterpoint fashion. 

Hermione heard nothing of what her parents had to share. It wasn't that she was not interested, for Hermione was usually enthralled by any opportunity to learn. Her mind was still occupied with the events of the day. She had done well, of that she was certain. Scum like Lucius Malfoy did not deserve the same freedoms afforded to those who observed the law. 

The look of pure loathing in Draco Malfoy's eyes had troubled her, every bit as much as his words about seizing a considerable measure of political control over the wizarding world. "You'd do this using an organization of purebloods, Draco? A new group of Death Eaters?" Hermione rolled her eyes in derision as the thoughts played through her mind. "And you'll do all that just to keep us muggle borns out of your world? And out of Hogwarts...?" 

"HERMIONE Sue Granger!" Hyperione pounded the table. "While we appreciate that you don't always agree with us, must you roll your eyes so?" 

"Oh mother, I'm sorry I didn't mean to..." Hermione rescinded. "And my name is Hermione JANE, not Hermione Sue!" 

"Indeed it is, and to think your mother thought 'Hermione-Sue' was a more appropriate name for you! Hmph! The very idea!" Herman said, turning on his wife grumpily. "And about our daughter's frequent eye-rolling, well what do you expect eh, Hyperione? The way you're always rolling your eyes at everything, it's a wonder Hermione doesn't do it more often! One of these days, you'll both do it so much that your extraocular muscles will get a cramp or two and then you'll be stuck looking at the insides of your own eyelids until..." 

"HERMAN GRANGER!" Hyperione shouted. "What about the way you're always serving us more food than we want? Must you control us so much that you regulate our food portions as well? Always giving Hermione another helping of gravy or Yorkshire pudding, what if she doesn't want it?" 

"She's a growing girl!" Herman rebutted, "you don't want to have the staff at Hogwarts accusing us of starving her do you?" 

"Well I'M not growing! Why do you always give me more portions? If I wanted more, I could very well serve it myself!" Hyperione countered. 

"Because I thought you could do with more nourishment! You probably do need the extra calories with your mouth running so much, it saps your at least 30 of your caloric intake alone!" Herman inveighed. "I won't bother next time. If you didn't want any, you should have told me! What did you want me to do? Read your mind? If I could do that, then I'd have gone to Hogwarts when I was growing up! That's the trouble with you, Hyperione, you run off your mouth all day, but tell me absolutely nothing!" 

"What?" Hyperione exclaimed, her face rivalling Hermione's at this point. "Well I think I should tell you that I HATE going to work with you every day! I curse the day we went into the practice together! I should have opened my own dental clinic! I'm just as educated as you are, even smarter and..." 

Hermione did not hear the rest of the row. With Dr. and Dr. Granger both living and working together, the relationship was smothering, and their verbal sparring was so commonplace that Hermione could tune it out with very little effort. 

She smiled in satisfaction, and silently relived the events of the day with a sense of triumph. Earlier, when Hermione had reached the familiar phone booth outside the Ministry of Magic Headquarters, she anxiously scanned the area, hoping to see a familiar face. As there was no time to venture to Hogwarts, and any owl she sent to inform The Order of the Phoenix could be intercepted, Hermione hoped for Kingsley Shacklebolt or Nymphadora Tonks to happen by so she could inform them of Lucius Malfoy's whereabouts, and they could return him to Azkaban where he belonged. After a few minutes of waiting, Hermione dialed '62442' on the antiquated phone and stated to the welcome witch's disembodied voice that she needed to speak with some one from the Department of Magical Law Enforcement urgently. 

After receiving the badge stating her purpose, Hermione descended immediately to the second level of the facility. She soon reached the Department of Law Enforcement, and found the place nearly empty, except for Amelia Bones, who was perusing leaves from a particularly large stack of parchments on her desk. At the mention of Malfoy's name, Amelia Bones summoned a team of Aurors who gathered all the information that Hermione gave them. She had hoped that Tonks, Moody or Shacklebolt would have been amongst them, but was somewhat comforted by at least Dawlish's presence. 

"Madam Edgecombe!" Madam Bones called through the fireplace. Hermione listened triumphantly as Madam Edgecombe, the head of the Floo Network Office, was instructed to secure and carefully monitor all the fireplaces in and around the University Hospital that Lucius was in. 

"This must be done immediately, we don't want to give him the opportunity to escape." 

"Is there a way we can put in place some anti apparition wards around the hospital and the surrounding area?" Hermione added eagerly, "injured, though Mr. Malfoy is, he still could potentially apparate away, or walk out of the hospital and apparate then." 

Madam Bones turned to Hermione smiling. "You've got a quick wit and a sense of justice that many other youths lack! Keep up the good work, Ms Granger, and you'll make one of the finest aurors someday." 

Although the praise left Hermione positively beaming, she also remained somewhat worried. Had she acted quickly enough? Would Lucius still find a way to elude capture? These thoughts persisted even as Hermione's parents engaged in a full blown shouting row. 

"Well at least you've made your feelings known!" Herman stood from the table, tossed his unfinished plates into the dishmachine and stomped off. 

"Good night, Herman!" Hyperione screeched, tossing her own dishes into the dishwasher and breaking a plate or two in the process. "I hope you enjoy sleeping on the couch tonight." 

"Why don't you bloody sleep on the couch when we have a row!" Herman pleaded. "My back gets sore, and the couch is so narrow that I tend to fall off." 

"Well if you dislocate your jaw, or knock out a few of your own teeth when you hit your face on the coffee table, don't come to me to sort you out!" Dr. Hyperione Granger stomped off to her room. 

"If you were the last dentist besides me on the planet, I would ruddy attempt human cloning, and have the clone fix my teeth before I'd come to you!" 

"If you were the last dentist besides me on the planet, I'd demand a recount!" 

"GOOD!" 

"GOOD!" 

Hermione sighed, only vaguely aware that her parents had finally argued themselves out. The row would be a distant memory by dawn anyway, and Hyperione and Herman Granger would go to work together as through nothing had transpired. 

Silently praying that the aurors had made it to the hospital before Lucius Malfoy could escape, Hermione started nibbling at her dessert pudding. The man had been nothing but a thorn in the side of the magical community in Britain, and represented all that was wrong with it. Mr. Malfoy had had the audacity to manipulate the ministry into having a great wizard like Albus Dumbledore removed, if only temporarily, from his post as Headmaster of Hogwarts. In their second year at Hogwarts, Hermione watched as Mr. Malfoy harangued Arthur Weasley until a fight broke out between them in Flourish and Blotts. 

Hermione was almost livid when she thought on Mr. Malfoy's treatment of house elves. If he thought nothing of attacking innocent people, how much worse must he treat house elves? Sure, Harry had freed Dobby, but how many other house elves were still in his employ? 

Hermione knew she had done the right thing. Lucius Malfoy was a dangerous man and deserved nothing less than Azkaban for the crimes he had committed over the years... 

...as well as for raising his son Draco to be every bit as intolerant and hostile to muggles and muggle-borns as he was.

* * *

"What's wrong with Draco, father? He looks quite ill." Harry asked, staring in awe at Draco's abnormally dilated pupils and pale face. "Can't you give him a potion to make him better?" 

"It would be far too dangerous." Severus replied, palpating along Draco's throat. "There appears to be considerable amounts of muggle potions in his system right now." 

"So if you gave him a magical potion, it could be dangerous because they could interact badly?" Harry sighed, still keeping his distance somewhat from his one time rival. 

Severus nodded, removing his hat and blonde wig as he sank into the chair next to Draco's bed. He tousled his freed hair, allowing the black, greasy appearing locks to tumble about his shoulders once more. 

Draco opened his eyes wide once again, his expression full of desperation. "Father...FATHER! He's dead..." Draco's voice became sobs. "Why did you have to die? Oh father...WHY?" Draco rolled onto his stomach once more and wailed in such an uncharacteristic way that Harry momentarily forgot that this boy was Draco Malfoy, his enemy, his bane, and his nemesis. All Harry could see now was a boy grieving over the death of a loved one... over his father. A loss Harry could easily fathom...and dreaded. 

"Aww," Harry said, moving right up to the bed railing and patting Draco on the shoulder. "Don't cry." Remembering how his own father had comforted him when he was sad, Harry patted Draco's back in a similar manner. "There there..." 

Apparently, the action was successful. Draco stopped sobbing in short order, and turned to face Harry and Severus once more. 

"Who are you?" Draco asked the unfamiliar child with hair so much like his Uncle Severus's. Although Draco could make out the silhouette of his Godfather Severus Snape, he tried to focus his disturbingly large pupils on the unfamiliar individual directly in front of him. 

"I'm Harry P..." Harry began. 

"Draco, I would like you to meet my son, Harry Snape." Severus interjected before Harry could incriminate himself further. 

Draco only replied by looking more blankly at his visitors. Whatever potions the muggles had administered left him very tired and dazed. 

"Uncle Severus?" Draco called, squinting his eyes, his attempts at seeing with any clarity futile at the moment. "You have a son?" 

Severus nodded brusquely changed the subject. "Do you remember what potions the muggle healers gave you, Draco?" 

"You mean what potions they shot into my arse?" Draco asked, his haughty sneer reasserting itself at the mention of 'muggles.' "I have no idea, they just told me to roll onto my stomach after they brought me back here. Before I could even tell them to put the needles away, it was all over. I feel rather ill." 

"Brought you back from where? Where did you go?" asked Severus. 

Draco averted his unfocussed eyes. 

"Draco?" Severus persisted. 

"I don't know if I should tell you." 

"Unless you're intend to tell me that you were out killing people, or otherwise engaging in something illegal, I'll tell no one." 

To further ease any of Draco's reservations, Harry pretended to be very interested in one of the illustrated books in the small bookcase near the door. 

"Very well then, Uncle Sev..." Draco replied, looking greatly saddened once more. "I was visiting my father." 

"He's here?" Severus asked incredulously. 

Draco rolled onto his back, looking extremely dazed. "The Dark Lord hammered us less than a fortnight ago." 

"You and Lucius?" asked Severus. 

"And my mum too. He had us all hammered. Because it was in the time after the raids, St. Mungos was full, so we were brought here to this Muggle Hospital." Draco lamented. He closed his eyes once more, the room whirling about him was entirely too distracting. "And father's dead!" 

"Draco," Severus forestalled him. "Am I to understand that you were paying your father a visit earlier?" 

Draco nodded without opening his steely grey eyes. 

"But you've also stated that he's dead? Explain." 

"While I was being wheeled over to the ward my father was staying in, I ran into Granger on the lift." Draco began. His heavily dosed brain protested at the exertion, but he went on anyhow. And made no sense whatsoever. Harry had to refrain from asking after Hermione, for he wasn't supposed to know her. After all, Harry "Snape" was only a young child. The mention of her name had piqued his curiosity, however, and Harry listened eagerly for more, but could not make sense of Draco's drug induced rambling. 

"Father," Harry tugged on the hem of Severus' jacket, "isn't there anything we can do for him? What about using your magic?" 

"I will not risk drawing the ministry's attention." said Severus judiciously. If Lucius Malfoy, now a wanted man, was indeed in the hospital, the chances of a team of aurors being nearby was great. He could not risk them coming over to investigate, and seeing Harry. While Harry's external appearance was disguised and his stature reduced, some specialized members of the ministry's law enforcement division had the power to see through disguises, potion accidents, and charms, and would know that he was indeed Harry Potter. 

"And you'd hurt him if you used a healing potion huh?" Harry asked, now genuinely concerned about Draco's well-being. The pale boy was now babbling incoherently. 

"No, I will not risk lasting injury to my godson." Severus said, rummaging through the many pockets in his biker's jacket and withdrawing a small vial. "But I can attempt to purge a considerable quantity of the muggle potions from him." 

"Purge him?" Harry asked. 

"Not the most optimal method to employ." Severus held the liquid up to the light and swirled it twice, checking the consistency. "It is a compound potion. The first function draws foreign substances from the bloodstream into the drinker's digestive tract for quick disposal, the second speeds up the processes of elimination by tricking the body into thinking it has been poisoned." 

"So it's what you would take if you've had some food that might have been poisoned for real? So that it doesn't kill you?" Harry asked. 

Severus nodded, holding the vial to Draco's lips, and lifting the pale boy's head. "It is also practical for when you've accidentally ingested a bad potion, or if you've begun having an allergic reaction to a potion or muggle medicine already in your bloodstream and you need to purge it as quickly as possible 

"So can I take some to get the Interventio Interferous out of my body?" 

"Even though the purging potion employs very infinitesimal levels of magic, and relies more on the mechanical processes of the body, it is still too high an amount of magic for one who has ingested the Interventio Interferous." Severus replied without hesitation, indicating that he had also thought of using the purging potion before. 

It was a horrific sight. Only minutes after pouring the clear potion into Draco's mouth, the pale youth began to wretch violently and threw up all over himself and Severus twice before Severus could lug Draco into the loo and seat him on the toilet. 

Harry turned away, glad that he had not used that potion himself. Yet. It was too sickening to watch. Strangely, Severus's face was one of cool neutrality as he held a bucket under Draco's chin as he emptied the contents of virtually his entire gastrointestinal tract into both the toilet and the bucket simultaneously. 

At this point, Harry could only hope that the effects of the potion didn't leave the already beaten Draco in poorer condition than he was before. The process looked very rebarbative, and the pale boy was soon groaning from what appeared to be exquisite cramping in his abdominal area. 

Harry clambered onto Draco's bed and began removing the soiled linens, taking care that non of the detritus spilt. He found some fresh linens in a cupboard nearby, and quickly made the youth's bed, not believing that he was doing this for Draco Malfoy, but at the same time feeling that he could do no less for a boy who was suffering so much. 

Draco and Severus emerged from the loo nearly half an hour later. The greatly weakened, though clean youth leaned on his professor and godfather for support. Thankfully, Draco smelled heavily of nothing but antiseptic cleansing agents. Harry concluded that Severus and/or Draco, who were both not familiar with muggle toiletries, used a bit too much whilst cleaning themselves up. 

Harry found that he could take no pleasure in his one time rival's suffering, and could not even laugh when he noticed that Draco was now wearing a pink hospital gown with teddy bears, unicorns and balloons printed on the thin fabric. Severus must have dressed Draco in the first, or only article of clothing he could find in the washroom cupboard, which happened to be a hospital gown meant for female patients. Harry made no comment about it as he pulled the covers up to Draco's neck after Severus lifted the youth into the bed, but he did entertain the thought of charming the teddy bears and unicorns to run about the gown as the balloons floated blissfully by. Alas, Harry could not safely do any magic, and the muggle healers would surely be frightened by the sight of moving print on a hospital gown. 

"Thanks..." Draco mumbled, his breathing still markedly laboured. 

"Stay with him, Harry. He still has low levels of the muggle potions in his blood, but they are too low now to affect him much." Severus said, tucking his hair back into the blonde wig and putting the hat back on his head. He leaned over and whispered: "do not let Draco know who you really are." 

"Okay. But father, Malfoy still looks really sick." Harry commented. 

"That is to be expected. It will soon pass." Severus replied. "Purging one's body is a strenuous undertaking." 

"Where are you going?" asked Harry. 

"I'm going to look for Mr. Malfoy." Severus replied, starting for the door. 

"You think he's really dead?" 

"I don't know, just stay with Draco." Severus opened the door. "He will be very thirsty, so help him drink some water." 

As much as Harry wanted to go with Severus, he knew that the less people who saw them in public, the better. There were too many untrustworthy individuals afoot. Evidently, since Severus did not order Harry to stay home today, he must have felt that Draco was trustworthy enough for the information that Snape had a son. 

That made Harry feel a little less uneasy around Draco.

* * *

"Arthur Weasley!" Molly shouted as she watched her spouse bolting a grilled cheese sandwich, carrots, an apple and a glass of milk. 

"Yes dear?" the red haired man responded, a little too innocently. 

"Where are you going with that?" Molly asked, a little annoyed that Arthur had been spending a bit too much time in his 'garage.' 

"Can't I have a snack, dear?" 

"Yes you may, but why don't you just eat it here?" Molly questioned. 

"Er..." Arthur, who had not improved at fooling Molly after more than twenty years of marriage, blurted the first excuse that came to mind. "Uh, it tastes better in the shed?" 

"Tastes better in the shed? INDEED!" Molly said, her hands on her hips. "We shall see about that!" 

"No no!" Arthur said, running after his wife as she made for the shed. 

"Rook to E5!" the toddler watched with amusement as the piece moved on its own accord. 

"Yes! Brilliant move!" Ron commended, as he leaned over the wizard's chess board. He had spent the past few nights teaching Arthur's new foundling the rules of the game and several hours teaching her how to make the pieces move. 

"Ronald Weasley!" Molly's voice came from behind him like a verbal cannon ball, causing him to fall across the board. 

The little toddler laughed as the pieces scurried away in all directions. 

"Who is...?" Molly said, falling speechless for one of the first times in Ron's recollection. The little girl just stared at her. 

"Dear," Arthur moved behind his wife, the glass in his hand nearly empty from his running. "Sit down, and let me explain."

* * *

"Harry is it?" Draco asked after a quarter of an hour more, his eyes still closed tightly. 

"Yes, I'm Harry." 

"May I have some water?" Draco choked out. 

Harry poured some water from the pitcher into a cup and handed it to Draco. Draco attempted to take it, but his hands trembled so violently that he nearly knocked the cup out of Harry's hands. 

"I'll help?" Harry insisted. He adjusted Draco into a seated position, then held the cup to youth's lips. Draco swallowed it quickly and asked for a second cup. The pitcher was nearly empty when scant colour finally returned to Draco's face. 

"Thank you." Draco said, still looking very weak as he struggled to stay in a seated position. "So, you're Professor Snape's son?" 

"Uh huh." Harry replied, doing his best to act as though the sight of Draco's quickly reappearing sneer didn't annoy him in the slightest. 

"I can see the resemblance." Draco smirked. He reached over and mussed Harry's now shoulder length hair, then prodded Harry's nose, which appeared larger than usual due to the subtle makeup Severus had applied earlier. 

"Quit it!" Harry shouted when Draco pinched his cheek, now chubbier with the remnants of baby fat adorning them. 

"Ooh! You got your daddy's temper too I see." Draco looked oddly amused. 

Harry could not resist the opportunity. "Well how would you like it if I did this to you?" Standing on the tips of his toes, Harry reached up and tousled Draco's white hair, prodded his nose and roughly pinched both his cheeks. 

"Ow ow! Okay!" Draco said in mock surrender. 

Harry could not understand it. To be sure, Draco was indeed sneering, but it looked different somehow. Perhaps it was because the sneer was done out of habit and lacked the malice Malfoy typically reserved for him. Draco had no idea that he was really a deaged Harry Potter, after all. To him, Harry was just Uncle Sev's little boy. 

"Uh... we brought you some candy, Mal- Draco Malfoy." Harry brought the box of chocolate covered macadamia nuts to Draco. 

"Thanks, kid." Draco said, removing the wrapping and munching one of the candies. "Here, join me!" 

Before Harry could decline, Draco tugged on Harry's shirt, urging the boy onto the bed with him. Draco then gave Harry one of the candies. 

"Thanks." Harry mumbled, taking a bite. 

"Smashing sweets!" Draco said, taking another piece, and giving Harry another as well. "These are muggle sweets?" 

"Yes, it's chocolate covered macadamia nuts. It's imported from a place called Hawaii." Harry said, his mouth bulging with chocolate. "I think it's magic though because it makes you feel good when you eat it." 

"Hmm it does...it's really good!" Draco concurred, sharing a third piece with Harry. "I have to tell my dad to..." Draco suddenly fell silent. 

"Tell your dad what?" asked Harry. 

Draco didn't answer and looked both worried and angry at the same time. 

Harry decided to spur Draco along. "Draco, when you were being sick, you said something about your dad being dead." Harry played the facade to the hilt. "Is he?" 

Draco shrugged, but the look of ire grew worse, "I went to visit him this evening, and he...He was dead! " 

Although Harry was not particularly fond of Lucius Malfoy, or Draco for that matter, he could not help but feel empathy for Draco. He had a father too. 

"Ah but who knows?" Draco slapped Harry on the back. " For all I know, the muggle healers gave him some of their potions and put him to sleep or something. They're not any good with potions anyway. I doubt they'd have any reason to kill him, though." 

"I hope your dad is well." Harry offered, but Draco still looked troubled. What was the connection between Hermione and all of this? In the end, Harry could not resist, but asked in a way that he thought would not betray his identity. "What is Granger?" 

To Harry's surprise, Draco laughed wrathfully. "Who,' Harry, you mean 'who is Granger.' But even I sometimes ask 'what' she is." 

Harry forced back a shard of anger, hoping that Draco hadn't noticed. "So, who is Granger?" 

"Do you know what a tattletale is, Harry? Well that's what Granger is. And she's a snoop too." Draco said through his clenched teeth in a manner he thought the younger boy would understand. 

Memories of their third year at Hogwarts resurfaced. It had been Hermione who informed Professor McGonagall about his prized Firebolt broom, and both he and Ron had thought her to be a tattletale for months thereafter. In the end, he concluded that Hermione had only been trying to help. "Tattletale? Snoop?" Harry egged Draco onward. 

"You see, I was having a talk with my father in his hospital room, and when I turned around, I saw that Granger was listening to us!" Draco sneered. "Doing that is really rude, don't you think Har?" 

All too familiar with Hermione's ways, Harry merely nodded. He thought Draco to be a tad hypocritical since the blond boy had spied on them during their first year at Hogwarts. Then again, Harry realized that he would have felt violated too. A private conversation between a parent and their child is sacred. If she had ever eavesdropped on him and Severus... 

"And she's a tattletale too! You see, there were these bad people who wanted to catch my father," Draco confided in a simplified manner, "and I just know Granger went and told those bad people where my father was!" 

"How do you know she told?" Harry asked unnecessarily. He knew Hermione was the type that would jump at the chance to tell. 

"Because I know she did!" A few blood vessels in Draco's grey eyes became more prominent as his wrath increased. "I saw it in her eyes! She couldn't wait to snitch on us! She ran away from me so fast, probably ran all the way to the mi-- to the place there those bad people are! Those people probably took father away already!" 

"To a bad place?" Harry asked, more to oblige Draco than anything else. He already knew about Azkaban. 

"Yes Harry, it's a really bad place. You probably don't understand what it's like to be locked in a dark cupboard that's too cold, and makes you sad all the time. But that's what the bad place, the bad people want to take my father to, is like." Draco said. 

Harry ached to tell Draco that he knew exactly what being locked in a dark and cold cupboard whilst being really sad was like, but he wasn't supposed to be Harry Potter right now. He just stared at Draco in sympathy. As much as he knew Lucius deserved to be in Azkaban, he could not help but feel bad for Draco. If it had been Severus, Harry would break any law to help keep him out of Azkaban. The thought of his father suffering again was too much to bear. 

Harry decided that he ought to help Draco think of something else. He also really wanted Draco to tell him more about his encounter with Hermione. Was she also a patient in the hospital? Or did they meet because her parents worked here? Perhaps if he asked indirectly, Draco would volunteer more information. "So when did you see this Granger person?" 

"Earlier today. Not that you'd ever want to see her, mind you." Draco replied, his smirk maturing into a full fledged scowl of the utmost disdain. "Granger is an ugly, chipmunk-faced mudblood with that goes to the same school that I do..." 

Before Harry realized what he was doing, he had his tiny hands around Draco's neck and was actively choking him.

* * *

Severus had been searching the hospital for nearly an hour. It was frustrating that none of the hospital staff seemed to know who Lucius Malfoy was, but not unexpected. Many of the hospital staff bore the earmarks of people who had been recently obliviated, and some of them had evidently been obliviated so forcefully that Severus doubted they would even remember where they parked their transport devices. 

With a little trouble, Severus deduced that Lucius must have been in the maxillofacial surgery ward. The workers in that unit looked to the be most severely affected by memory charms and could barely speak comprehensibly to Severus when he asked them for directions. 

After checking around each corner before proceeding down the corridor, Severus searched each room for Lucius while taking care to avoid being seen by any ministry official who might still be at the hospital. 

There was only one room left, leaving Severus to conclude that Lucius had already been taken away. Strangely, Severus felt compelled to enter, cautiously watching for any magical person who might have been loitering. 

Without a sound, Severus crept closer to the curtain next to the only bed with an occupant in it. The person was very still, although Severus could hear the even rasping of some one breathing with difficulty. He peered around the curtain and exhaled in relief at the sight of Lucius laying on his side. He was facing away from Severus; his white hair fanned out over the crisp, hospital pillow. 

It was curious, for Lucius looked as though he had been left untreated. His body randomly trembled and shuddered as he slept, grimly reminding Severus of some one who had been subjected to prolonged bouts of the Cruciatus Curse. His body was riddled with bruises, punctures and what appeared to be glass cuts. Lucius's arms and legs appeared to have been dislocated, and upon closer observation, Severus decided that Lucius was not really sleeping, but was unconscious. 

"While I knew that muggle healers were lacking in some abilities," Severus mumbled to himself as he rummaged through his biker jacket for suitable healing potions, "I had no idea that outright incompetence was an ability that they had ample measures of." 

Severus removed his hat and wig and placed them on a nearby chair. "Malfoy?" 

Lucius did not respond. Severus knelt at the man's side and brushed some of the...abnormally white hair out the man's face. "Malfoy!" 

Severus frowned. Malfoy's body was badly marked by the signs of torture... Magical Torture. 

"Malfoy, as I cannot cast any spells whilst we are in this muggle hospital, I will pour a healing potion down your throat and then attempt to revive you." Severus positioned Lucius's head and pried his mouth open. He paused briefly, looking in awe at unconscious man. Never before had Lucius resembled Severus's own father Lucien, than at this very moment. Even his hair was now the same colour as Lucien's had been. 

Suddenly Lucius opened his pale eyes wide... eyes that were the same colour... AS A FROZEN POLAR SEA! Ice blue eyes. Not like Lucius Malfoy's, but Lucien Snape's. 

Thinking that he was only imagining things, Severus proceeded to touch the first vial to Lucius' lips. 

"You've been making potions again haven't you?" Lucius shouted, sounding frighteningly like Lucien Snape. He sat up so suddenly that Severus dropped the vial onto the sheet, spilling its contents completely. 

"F-father?" Severus gasped, the white hair and rage in the ice-blue eyes all too familiar to him. 

"Damn you, boy!" Lucien rose from the bed, seemingly unencumbered by his injuries. "I told you to leave those potions be! You are to beat a Gryffindor boy every day whilst you're at Hogwarts! Two would be better!" 

Severus fell to the floor and slowly backed away from his sire, the fear within him rising once more to the surface. 

"Oh, but you did follow my orders didn't you?" Lucien said, rising from the bed and leaning over so that his face was only inches from Severus'. "You have a Gryffindor son, and you beat him!" 

"I did not do it intentionally!" Severus protested. 

"With each passing day, you're becoming more like me, boy!" Lucien suddenly appeared dressed, although the injuries remained. He slowly began removing his belt. "But you've made mistakes! And you're going to learn that there's a price to pay for your actions." 

"No father!" Severus supplicated, his mind returning to a time many years in the past. "Don't beat me! Please!" 

"You're just like me! You beat your own son, just as I've done to you for years." Lucien said silkily, raising the belt high into the air. 

End Part Twenty-Eight 


	29. A Father’s Heavy Hand

﻿

**Remembrance and Renewal** By **Avatar Arkmage** and ** Nigel Tatsuya**   
Chapter Twenty-Nine: **A Father's Heavy Hand**

"RIDDIKULUS!" Severus shouted forcefully, causing the boggart to retreat. 

After quickly determining that he was truly alone, Severus wiped the remnants of tears from his eyes. Even across the expanse of time, Lucien still held the power to deeply affect his only son. 'It was merely a boggart,' Severus repeated to himself over and over, but he did not fully recover from the shock for several minutes more. Was Lucien Snape truly Severus Snape's greatest fear, or was it the fear of becoming like Lucien that fuelled the boggart? 

Pushing what Severus concluded to be superfluous thoughts aside, he commenced searching the room. There was no sign of Lucius, and no evidence that he had ever been there, save for some white-blond strands of hair on a towel in the bathroom and on a hairbrush under the bed. 

"Draco must have seen the boggart..." whispered Severus to the empty room. But who had placed the boggart there? And why? What good would come of scaring muggle medical staff and patients who had the misfortune of being interned here? 

Or did one of the overzealous members of the Ministry's investigation units put the boggart here merely to keep Muggles out of the room? 

'I hope you are still alive, Lucius.' Severus thought grimly, knowing that Azkaban was a fate only slightly preferable to death. The dementor's kiss, by contrast, was worse.

* * *

"H-harry!" gasped Draco, prying the youth's surprisingly strong hands off of his neck. "What on Earth are you doing?" 

Harry went pale, hunting his mental shelves for an excuse that would sound even remotely plausible. 

"One would think Granger was your girlfriend or something!" Draco pushed Harry back. "But you're much too young for her! By the time your voice drops, she'll have had at least three kids with another bloke." 

"You sweared!" Harry pouted. 

Draco laughed heartily. "You choked me because I swore?" 

"Yes! You've got a foul mouth! Such a naughty word! Your daddy is going to scold you if he heard you say that." 

"My father!" Draco grinned, finding Harry's innocence amusing. "He would not scold me! He says it too." 

"Well it's not nice!" 

"Mudblood Mudblood Mudblood Mudblood!" Draco exclaimed just inches from Harry's face. 

"You calling me a mudblood now?" Harry went for Draco's throat again. 

"HAH Hah!" Draco fended off Harry's tiny hands now that he was prepared for them. "You said 'mudblood' too!" 

"DID not!" Harry covered his mouth. "Oh! I did, didn't I." 

"Ah it's okay, don't worry." said Draco, "I won't tell Uncle Severus about your naughty mouth. You're probably a half-blood anyway, you'd only be insulting half of yourself." 

"OH YEAH?" Harry raised a fist. He was no longer able to suppress his disdain for Draco. "Well you're an inbred, loutish, neanderthal, potty-mouthed, vulgar, uncouth twit!" 

"Oh! You even insult people like Uncle Severus." Draco appeared amused, but not offended. 

"You're not mad?" Harry asked disbelievingly. As good as it felt to be deemed similar to Severus, he was not used to Draco reacting to him in this manner. 

"Nah! You're rather cool." Draco said, patting Harry on the head. 

"Why?" asked Harry. 

"Because I like you, chap." 

"Why would you like me?" Harry crawled closer to the pale boy. 

"Because you've got balls!" 

"YOU like me because I got balls?" Harry paled. "You fancy other blokes, Draco? You're not a child molesterer are you?" 

"What? What's a molesterer?" Draco thought on it for a moment then went equally as pale. "Hang on! That's not what I meant! I'm not like that." Draco's pale colour morphed to a bright red. 

It felt good to twist the proverbial knife, and Harry crawled off the edge of the bed and backed away. He did his best to look very frightened. "Help help! A MOLESTERERER!" 

"I only meant that you were brave, Har. That you stand up for yourself!" Draco piped defensively. "Don't muggles the say 'you've got balls' when a person is brave?" 

"They don't ordinarily say that to girls though." Harry broke out into peals of giggles and concluded that Draco must have been learning too much from watching the muggle telly. 

"YOU SLY little PRAT!" Draco bellowed.

* * *

"Inane, incompetent, overzealous...!" Severus made another round through the apparently empty patient room, looking for more evidence of Lucius Malfoy's current location. Sadly, between the boggart, the hairbrush flung under the bed, and the residual signatures of legal magic, all circumstantial evidence bore the earmarks of the ministry. Judging from the general sloppiness of it all, Severus concluded that the unit sent to apprehend Lucius had consisted of new, untried Aurors with no shortage of enthusiasm, and lead aurors who either held a grudge against Lucius or the Malfoy family as a whole. 

Severus closed his eyes and tried to make sense of the residual magic in the air. Legal binding curses. Ministry approved pain and discomfort inducing spells. The stench of fear in the air. The faint smell of blood. Severus exhaled in disgust. He was no stranger to the darker side of the ministry, and had even faced the wrath of the ministry's inquisitorial squad during Voldemort's first reign. His body still ached just thinking on those times. 

Were these questionable methods truly necessary against Lucius Malfoy? Granted, Lucius had been guilty of bribery, and was responsible for many crimes and deserved to pay some form of penance... but did he deserve such brutality? Surely he was not in a favourable state to resist arrest? He was still hospitalized, after all... 

Severus realized that it was likely that some one was still monitoring this room, or perhaps the entire hospital, and would have noticed the spell used to annihilate the boggart. Thankfully, Severus had not used his wand, so they would not easily know who had cast the spell, but the ministry would certainly send an investigation team to assess the situation further. 

A feeling of foreboding washed over his thoughts, what if some one from the Death Eaters had been monitoring Lucius all along? It was Voldemort who had Malfoy hospitalized in a muggle hospital in the first place. 

What if that Death Eater...WAS working at the Ministry of Magic? 

Severus bolted from the room. He and Harry would have to leave the hospital as soon as possible. And lay very low.

* * *

"Give me my fizzy drink!" Harry shouted through his teeth at the soft drink machine. 

As Severus had foreseen, Draco was very thirsty after the muggle medicines had been purged from his system. Harry kept having to refill Draco's pitcher from the bathroom faucet, for the staff had not been in to see him for at least an hour. Instead of refilling the pitcher a fourth time, Harry decided to buy a few drinks from the dispenser he had seen in the staff lounge. Draco had probably never had a muggle fizzy drink before, and Harry had grown thirsty as well from running to and from faucet. 

Thankfully, Severus had filled Harry's purse with both muggle and magical bills and coins, and Harry had more than enough to buy soft drinks. Now if only the machine would cooperate. 

"Where's my drink, you reject from the machine junk heap?" Harry reiterated, shaking the machine with his tiny hands. 

Thinking that the coin slots were jammed, Harry inserted more coins to dislodge the first ones. All for naught. 

Whilst watching the telly box with Draco, Harry had seen an irate person kick a Coca-Cola machine that would not dispense its product. Harry decided to attempt the same. Knowing that he had neither the strength nor the height to kick the machine properly, Harry walked to the other end of the empty staff lounge, did an about face, and then came running at the machine. He jumped into the air and kicked it as hard as he could; causing several tins to fall from the machine. 

"Oh! Owee!" Harry had kicked it so hard, that he not only sent waves of pain through his leg, the force sent him sprawling on the floor. 

Draco's grey eyes widened when little Harry returned. As small as he was, Harry had somehow managed to carry roughly eight muggle containers of what appeared to be beverages back to the room. Because the young boy's pockets had been too small, Harry shoved a few cans in the waistband of his trousers whilst carrying the remainder in his brightly coloured shirt. 

"Did you ever have one of these before?" Harry asked, holding a cola out to Draco. 

"No I haven't. Muggles preserve their drinks in iron tins?" Draco replied, examining the can in the hopes of finding a way to open it. 

"These tins are made of aluminium. And yes, because muggles can't preserve foods and drinks with magic, they put things in tins, glass and plastics." Harry explained, enjoying the fact that he was actually talking about muggles, and Draco wasn't sneering in disdain at the mere mention of them. 

In fact, Draco seemed to be quite intrigued. "They sure are resourceful. Did they remember to make a way to open this?" 

Harry set the rest of the cans on the tray table and popped the tin in Draco's hands open, and took a strawberry fizzy drink for himself. 

"Try it." Harry encouraged. 

Draco coughed a little after taking his first sip. He had not expected the carbonation. 

"You like it?" Harry climbed back onto the bed and sat next to Draco. 

Draco nodded. "It's quite tasty! Isn't it a bit strong for little children though?" 

"Not at all, some adults even give their babies fizzy drinks like these." Harry paused to take a long drink. "You'll grow used to it." 

Draco was about to ask Harry what herbs the cola drink was made of when Severus returned to the room. 

"Uncle Severus?" Draco started anxiously. "Have you been to visit my father? How is he?" 

Severus explained everything he had seen and had been able to deduce from Lucius's empty room. The fact that Draco had, in all likelihood, seen the boggart and not a dead Lucius Malfoy, seemed to offer little comfort. 

"Bloody Granger!" Draco tightened his grip on the tin, "Sure father deserves to pay for his crimes, but... Oh Merlin! Father isn't well right now! Uncle Severus, I've been to visit father when he was in Azkaban, and I barely recognised him!" 

"I am aware of the conditions of Azkaban, and its effects on..." Severus acknowledged. 

"You don't understand!" Draco interrupted. "The Dark Lord had us all hammered! Mother and I received some healing at St. Mungo's before we were sent here, but because father's a wanted man, he was brought directly to the Muggle hospital! Muggle Doctors can't heal like our healers can. Father's still in a dreadful state! His jaw is wired, so he can't even eat! He can't walk on his own yet! If he is returned to Azkaban in this condition he'll die, I'm sure of it!" 

Harry felt genuine concern for his one time adversary. "Won't they at least let a healer heal Mr. Malfoy before they send him back?" 

Both Severus and Draco scoffed. 

"So they just...throw him in there...and leave him to...Aw, Draco!" Harry said, putting a hand on pale youth's shoulder. 

Draco scowled, but did not fend off Harry's hands. "Father wasn't evil! He might have been a git sometimes, and he might have been cruel to people he didn't like, but he's a good man!" Draco groused. "Bloody Granger! Meddlesome, eavesdropping, trouble-making Granger! She doesn't know when to keep out of other people's business." 

Harry longed to cut the blood supply to Draco's brain, thereby effectively shutting the boy's pompous maw. Yet at the same time, Harry could empathize, at least a little. 

"Damn that Potter too!" 

"You mean, Harry Potter? What did...I–uh– I mean what did he do?" 

The pale teen sneered. "He's a no good tattletale too! He ratted my father out in the first place. If it weren't for that no good Potter..." 

"Draco," Severus's face remained emotionless as he placed a calming hand on the youth's shoulder. "We must depart. It is late, and it is past Harry's bedtime." 

The pale boy sighed, the sneer slipped from his face. "Nice to meet you little fellow." Draco said, ruffling Harry's long hair once more and squeezing his chubby cheeks. Harry was so angry that he almost bit Draco's hand. "Come back and visit some time, will you?" 

"I would rather move into the toilet next to Moaning Myrtle." Harry said under his breath. He forced himself to look Draco in the eyes, and felt his anger instantly dissolve like a mist in bright sunlight. Draco looked nothing like the Slytherin youth Harry knew from school, and saw something akin to affection in the boy's steely grey eyes. 

"Right." Harry nodded. 

"Uncle Severus is my godfather, so I believe that makes us family." Draco weakly pulled himself upright, put an arm around Harry's tiny body, and hugged him lightly. 

"I suppose we are." As much as Harry disliked Draco as a person, he returned the embrace. Having a family again, any family, was a strange, yet comforting feeling indeed. 

"Being that we are family," Severus moved to the other side of Draco's bed, "I trust this visit will remain a secret of this family." 

"Of course, Uncle Severus." Draco wrapped his arm around Severus's waist and hugged him as well. "I know it wouldn't reflect well on you if it was known you had an illigi..." Even Draco knew that some things were better left unsaid. "A son." 

Draco turned back to Harry once more. "A really admirable son! You're so much like your old man, Har!" 

Severus accepted one of the fizzy drinks from Draco and left with Harry on his shoulder once more. 

"Father!" Harry almost pulled off Severus's wig in his excitement and pointed out one of the windows. "The Aurors are here! There are two robed figures outside!" 

Severus cautiously peered out of the nearest picture glass window and saw two Aurors walking into the front entrance of the hospital. He slid Harry off of his shoulder and carried him like an infant as he ran towards the staff exit. 

"There's Aurors on this side too!" Harry whispered from his ideal vantage point. 

"My eyes have not suffered an abnormal degree of macular degeneration in he past hour! I can see that!" Severus retorted. "We have no choice..." 

"We're going to turn ourselves in?" Harry asked incredulously. 

"No we are going to dance whilst gadding about on our heads!" Severus replied sardonically, walking in the general direction of the Aurors near the staff exit. "As you're no doubt skilled in the art of deception, we shall do what is known as 'hiding in plain sight!' Now, you are to play the part of an injured muggle boy going home from the hospital." 

Harry understood, and curled up in his father's arms. He then wore the most pained expression he could muster on his face, and began bawling...loudly enough for anyone within a kilometre's radius to hear. "AAAAAAAAH! Oh Daddy! I'll never imitate a stunt just because OWEE! I saw Bart Simpson do it first." 

Not knowing what Harry was on about, but doing his best to play along, Severus lowered his head as he passed the Aurors and spoke in a way that would have made Molly Weasley proud. "Oh, my poor poor darling little boy!" Severus said in a voice at least an octave higher than his normal speaking voice. "Daddy will take you home and make you all better." 

"You will?" Harry whimpered. 

"Indeed!" Severus replied, feeling relief that the two aurors weren't even looking in their direction despite how loud Harry's wails were. "And I will be sure to have a word with Bart Simpson's parents! Surely they do not want their son to end up in the hospital as well. Now come along my precious son, daddy will take you home." 

When they were out of earshot of the Aurors, Harry buried his face in Severus's chest and exploded in laughter. "'Poor poor darling little boy!" More laughter. "'Daddy will make you all better!' If only people knew that the dour, mean, grumpy Professor Snape were capable of such words..." 

"You will tell no one of this!" Severus hissed, his chagrin evident.

* * *

Once well away from the hospital, Severus quickened his pace to a run and did not stop until he was standing at the barrier leading to Snape Manor. He brusquely pulled Harry off of his shoulders, and placed him on the pavement. 

"Harry, you are to count to five, and then you may walk through the barrier after me." Severus instructed before disappearing into the tree. 

Father and son walked back to the second Snape Manor; the night's events washing over them in silence. Once again, Harry had the feeling of some one's gaze upon him from one of the windows in the first mansion. Harry paused to face the manor, expecting to see someone or something looking back, but saw nothing out of the ordinary. It was curious though, there appeared to be faint light emanating from within the manor's walls. 

"Father?" Harry tapped on Severus's hip. "The first Snape Manor is lit up..." 

Severus gathered Harry into his arms without answering, and ran all the way back to the second manor, not even slowing his pace until he was in the sitting room. 

Harry continued to inquire about the first manor and how it did not seem to be empty, but Severus either told him to stop asking his infernal questions or else just ignored Harry completely. 

Eventually realizing that Harry would not leave well enough alone, Severus decided that redirecting Harry would be a more suitable course of action. "I haven't run like that in a while. I'm thirsty. Harry, what did you say this was?" He withdrew the cola from one of his jacket pockets. 

"It's a fizzy drink. Lots of muggles, both kids and adults like to drink those." Harry replied. "Draco was rather thirsty, as you said he would be, and I got thirsty refilling his pitcher for him, so I remembered the cola dispensing machine we passed on our way over to Draco's room, and I went and got us drinks. Except that the machine didn't want to cooperate at first, so I had to kick it really hard. So that's why there were so many sodas. Draco has a few more to drink in case he gets thirsty." 

Once more, Severus had to struggle to make sense of what Harry just said. Six year old children weren't so easy to understand, after all. "After running all the way back to the barrier, I find that I am very thirsty," Severus said, slipping his finger under the pull tab on the tin. "Would you care to have some with me...?" 

"WAIT!" Harry exclaimed. "You shouldn't open it! You were running with it in your pocket! You shook it all up! It's going to...!" 

BAKOOOOOON! 

"...explode!" Harry finished. 

Severus sputtered. The soft drink had sprayed him in his face and hair, and he was now thoroughly soaked with the sweet beverage. "Harry, am I to understand that both muggle adults and children imbibe this beverage?" 

"Yes?" Harry replied giggling at the absurd sight before him. 

"Then those muggle parents are derelict in their duties as parents! Allowing their children to drink a beverage that doubles as an explosive is not very clever!" Severus frowned, accepting a towel from Rastus, who was already spelling the area clean. "If you will excuse me, Harry. I had intended to give you a bath when we arrived at home, now it would appear that I need one more urgently."

* * *

Severus was about to lower himself into the large bath when Harry burst into the room. 

"HARRY!" Severus yelled, instinctively holding a washcloth over his groin. "I am going to bathe now..." 

Harry looked at the large bath, which had been built to resemble a pond complete with water lilies and magical brocaded carp. Even the taps were concealed behind the rocks of the waterfall. "Well, this bath is large enough for both of us isn't it? Even if there were ten of us, we'd all fit comfortably wouldn't we?" 

"...!" 

"Aw, why not?" Harry said as he removed his own clothing. "Why can't I join you?" 

"Uh..." Severus was genuinely flustered. "Because uh.. uh... it is not customary for parents to bathe with their children." 

"But why not?" Harry protested, stomping his feet on one of the rocks. "We're both boys, er... men, you know what I mean, so what's the difference? Besides I've already seen you in the shower before, it's not like you've grown a tail or something." 

Severus tried to think of a suitable response, but none was forthcoming. In the end, he nodded and Harry immediately jumped into the bath, being careful to keep his hair out of the water. He cringed slightly, for Severus apparently enjoyed taking very hot baths. 

"Father," Harry asked after wading about after a while, "can I get my hair wet?" 

Severus, who had also been swimming around the 'pond,' resurfaced. "You may." 

"But won't my extensions come out?" 

"No, the adhesive is resistant to water and should stay in place for a few weeks." Severus replied, diving beneath the water once more. 

"What if I want to take them out before then?" 

"You may ask Rastus to assist you, Rastus will be happy to." the elf popped into the room bearing fresh towels and clothes. "Does young Snape want to take the extensions out?" 

"Oh no, I rather like them!" Harry said, diving under the water gleefully. "I was just wondering about them, that's all." 

Severus climbed onto one of the larger rocks on the far end of the 'pond,' summoned a bar of soap and a washcloth, and proceeded to wash himself. 

"Father," Harry swam over to Severus, carefully avoiding the school of magical koi as he went, "you think Draco will be all right?" 

Severus paused, causing the lather to drip down his chest, "You never were concerned about Draco Malfoy in the past." 

"Yes, well." Harry swam beside Severus' legs. "I guess I never got to know him properly before . And to tell you the truth, I really didn't want to know him. When I first saw him in Madam Malkin's back before our first year, I thought he was an utter twit! Every moment I listened to him, I liked him less and less. Over the years, with his pompous ways and his holier than thou attitude, I disliked him even more." Harry paused to watch his father work shampoo through his hair. Yes, Severus Snape really did wash his hair. "But now, well I'm not so sure anymore. When he thought I was Harry Snape and not Harry Potter, he acted so differently towards me, he seemed like another boy entirely. I think he's really a nice fellow if he doesn't put on airs." 

Severus helped Harry clamber onto the rock beside him. "So now that I know that he's not a git all the time, well... I-I'm worried about him." 

Severus gave a nearly imperceptible nod and began washing Harry. Although the boy's bruises were practically healed, Severus was still very careful not to rub too hard. He did not want his son fearing his hands as he had feared his own father's. 

"Since Mr. Malfoy is probably back at Azkaban by now, you don't think they'll give Mr. Malfoy the dementor's kiss, do you father?" 

"I hope not." Severus said absently, working the tearless shampoo through Harry's long hair. 

"Every time I started to get annoyed with Draco, I kept thinking... 'what if it were you instead of Mr. Malfoy in that situation?'" Harry's voice faltered as tears filled his eyes once more. "I can't bear even the thought of you going to a place like Azkaban. I don't want you to be sad, or cold, or hungry, or lonely, or in pain. You've suffered too much already! But Poor Draco, what about his father? He must be still awake thinking how his own father must be suffering..." 

Harry fiercely threw his arms around Severus and launched into his customary bawling. Severus knew that any snide comments or even saying anything at all would prolong the bout, so Severus just held Harry until the boy cried himself out.

* * *

Roughly an hour later, Severus carried his little boy to the bed. The child had literally worn himself out and had nearly fallen asleep in the bath. 

"Does Master Severus want Rastus to help?" The house elf asked when he noticed Severus contemplating which set of pyjamas to put on Harry. 

"That will not be necessary." Severus replied, finally pulling a brightly coloured, union suit style pyjama set onto Harry's limp form. 

Harry rolled contentedly under the covers, but would not let go of Severus' hand. "On second thought, Rastus. I do need your assistance..." 

After dressing Rastus in one of Severus's nightshirts, Severus coaxed Harry to grasp the octarelf's hand instead of his. 

"But where will Master Severus sleep if Rastus is sleeping in his bed?" the human-like elf whispered. 

"I do not know that I will be sleeping tonight, Rastus." Severus replied, a sombre look spreading over his gaunt features. "Stay with Harry, he will sleep more securely if there is another person in the bed with him." 

"Yes sir." Rastus replied, closing his large eyes. "Rastus will sleep here then. Goodnight, Master Severus."

* * *

Draco Malfoy could not fall asleep. He doubted if he'd ever fall asleep for the rest of the week. Not long after Severus and Harry had left, a group of Aurors paid Draco a 'visit.' Although their words had been friendly, Draco knew they were here to investigate something or other. Draco made sure that they would know nothing of Uncle Severus's visit earlier in the evening, and they would most certainly know nothing of Harry. 

Before the Aurors departed, one of them, a young man who Draco recognized as a Gryffindor who was several years older, callously tossed a special edition of the Daily Prophet on the foot of his bed. Draco treated the young Auror to a look of the purest loathing as the young man left with a satisfied look on his face. 

The headlines crowed of the recent capture of Lucius Malfoy, and showed a moving picture of the pale man, clad in tattered, greying robes, being levitated onto a prison barge by four aurors. A barge destined for Azkaban. 

"Father!" Draco called to the image of his sire, who floated helplessly onto the barge over and over again. "Father!" 

Draco angrily crumpled the newspaper and tossed it across the room, where it burst into flames and vanished immediately thereafter. "So! It was planned!" Draco hissed to the empty room. "Those wretched nits brought the paper so that I'd see it but the screwspawn put a self destruct charm on it to prevent its discovery by the muggle medical staff." 

"BLOODY COWARDS!" Draco snarled. "Ministry Lapdogs! Mindless pack animals! The lot of you! Bloody cowards!" 

Draco turned his attention to the far corner of the room where he had tossed the paper. Not a vestige remained of it. The magnitude of the day's events crashed upon him like a wall of water from a broken dam. The moving image of Lucius on the front page of the newspaper, although indelibly burned into Draco's heart, was gone. Lucius was gone. Was that the last time Draco would see his father alive? A prisoner... 

Early memories of Lucius coaxing Draco into eating another spoonful of porridge meandered into Draco's consciousness. Visions of Lucius making the stars dance over Draco's crib resurfaced, along with the memory of Lucius healing a scrape on Draco's knee whilst Narcissa sang to him. Those memories were forced to the background by the ugly image of Lucius being led onto the prison barge in tattered rags. 

They must have dressed Lucius Malfoy in those rags for the sole purpose of humiliating him and the whole Malfoy clan. 

Memories of riding behind Lucius on his broom forced their way into Draco's consciousness. Long before Draco was old enough to ride on his own, Narcissa fashioned a harness that would allow Draco to ride on Lucius' back. He had looked forward to those all too infrequent rides, and seeing his mother and the world below them shrinking away as they took to the air was nothing less than exhilarating. The first flights were scary, and little Draco often held onto his father's white-blond hair for extra support. Lucius made no complaint, even though Draco was sure he must have tugged a bit too hard on his father's tresses at times. 

Once again, the ugly picture of the same man, now clad in rags, being levitated onto a prison barge dispersed his happier memories into the background. 

"I HATE YOU ALL!" Draco turned around and punched his pillow with all his might. "Fudge's dogs! Father couldn't even defend himself! Couldn't tell you that we wanted to raise the wizarding world back to it's former glory! Just because father went about things the wrong way before, you cowards want to put him back in Azkaban without even allowing him to speak in his own defence!" 

Some of the malice faded from Draco's voice, and were replaced by undertones of desperation that no one would ever hear. "People can change! You don't know my father as I do!" 

The Malfoy heir cast a glance around the empty room, as though to reassure himself that no one would hear him. Or see him without his pompous airs. Malfoys were beyond grovelling weren't they? "Father isn't well. He can't eat! He can't even walk! Can't call for help if he needs it..." 

Draco's next words were sobs, as were his next ones.

* * *

Wearing nothing but his thin, grey silk nightshirt, Severus walked out of the maple doors of the manor and walked along the porch until he stood facing the first Snape Manor. The cold night air made the pale man, who was already shivering slightly, shiver even more. Severus Snape rarely trebled at anything anymore, but was doing so so much now that his legs felt as though they wouldn't be able to support his weight much longer. 

In acquiescence, Severus sat on the top step of the stairway facing the first Snape Manor. An abnormally cold breeze licked at his damp hair and cut his cheek like more effectively than a shard of cold glass. Severus looked up at the moonless, crystal black sky and leaned against the balustrade for support as the stars flickered like the dying embers of distant bonfires. 

The potions master had known that returning to Snape Manor would reopen wounds that he had strived ceaselessly for nearly seventeen years to forget. Now the wounds were bleeding anew. Festering...

* * *

"Child?" Albus Dumbledore asked the teen, who was still struggling to walk normally, and lagged several paces behind him, "are you certain you are ready to go home?" 

"Yes." Severus replied. The newly made brand on the teen's arm still burned fiercely, and the wounds that were too deep for the healers at St. Mungos, ached with every step that Severus took. The deepest cuts hurt as though the Death Eater's claws were still in him, and his head still ached whenever he moved. 

Severus shivered when he thought of what Lucien would do to him when he went home again. Lucien had not visited him the entire time he had been hospitalized. Furthermore, according to the staff in the Spell Damage Ward, Lucien had not even been by to visit mother. How could he show not an iota of concern for his own family? Was he really that cruel? 

Lucien had expressed his disappointment in Severus, when he first learned of his joining the ranks of the Death Eaters, and had even thrust young Severus against the shelves in Voldemort's labs for it. Father must have been exceptionally angry if he hadn't even come by to visit Severus at all in the hospital. 

What would father do when he returned home? 

"Severus?" The aged Headmaster asked once more as Severus prepared to apparate away from Dumbledore's Loft. "Will you be all right?" 

"I'll have to face father some time." Was all Severus said before popping back to Snape Manor. 

Severus paced up and down the street several times. Would father just backhand him when he arrived at home? Would he say something like "How could you be so stupid as to join the Death Eaters, when I tried to keep you away from their influence your whole life?" and give Severus a few lashes of the belt or the whip? Or would Lucien be so angry that he'd beat Severus unconscious as he had done twice before? 

Steeling himself, and putting the most neutral expression on his face, Severus turned toward the unkempt lot leading to Snape Manor. Hopefully Lucien would not strike him across his left cheek this time, as he still had a fading bruise where one of the Animalia Potion-influenced Death Eaters had ripped a deep cut into his flesh. The area still ached horribly and even three weeks after the fact, Severus still had difficulty chewing because of it. 

Severus was about to pass through the barrier when his foot came in contact with an object in a bloody burlap bag partially obscured from view by the thick brambles. Frowning, Severus gingerly lifted the coarse material away. Had someone disposed of some trash in their lot again, just because it looked like an abandoned lot? Was some one attempting to make compost? Did some one leave something here by mistake? 

All of his guesses were wrong. 

"FATHER!" Severus almost screamed at the sight of his father's badly mangled body in the bag. 

The teen retained enough of his wits to drag the undignified body bag through the barrier with him. He collapsed bonelessly to the grass just on the other side, sending waves of pain through his pummelled body. Hoping beyond hope, Severus tore the coarse fabric of the bag and pulled out the lifeless body of Lucien Snape and felt along the man's neck and chest for a pulse or a heartbeat. The senior Snape's white hair was matted together in several places by his own blood, and his body was badly marked by the injuries of both magical and conventional tortures. His muscles still spasmed intermittently, indicating that Lucien Snape had endured the cruciatus curse for a considerable length of time. 

"You're still warm, father." Severus said hopefully, feeling under Lucien's nose for the slightest trace of breath. There was none. Severus felt once more for a pulse, a heartbeat... any sign that Lucien Snape was still alive. 

"FATHER! Father please! Please!" Even though he knew his father would have disapproved, Severus could not stop the flow of tears down his still-healing cheeks. He tried desperately to stop himself, but that only made him cry more earnestly. 

With all the strength he possessed, Severus lifted his father into his arms and staggered into Snape Manor, and into the very potions lab Lucien had forbidden Severus from ever entering. "I won't let you die father! You will not die!" Severus shouted, pouring various healing potions down his sire's throat. "Father please!" In desperation, Severus began casting every healing charm he was capable of in his weakened, convalescent state. But to no avail. 

Exhausted, the teenaged Severus fell to the floor of his sire's potion lab and pulled the pale man into his arms. Severus held his father in his arms in death, in a manner in which he had longed to do while the man had been alive. "If only I had come home just a little earlier, maybe I could have saved you...but I was a coward!" Severus buried his face in his father's chest, he was sobbing too much to continue. He pressed his ear over his father's heart, silently praying to any deity that might have been listening for there to be a heartbeat, even the faintest one. "Your body is not cold yet! You must have just died. Please don't go! Please don't go! I'll be a good son to you. I'll do whatever you want me to! I'll not shed a tear in front of you ever again! I'll even abandon potions forever! I'll even assault Sirius Black, Peter Pettigrew, James Potter and Remus Lupin every day of the week if you tell me to! Just don't go! Don't GO!" 

The heat inevitably began to fade from Lucien's body. Severus held Lucien in his trembling arms until he went completely cold. "Oh Father! Who did this to you? Who was so cruel as to force you to expire under torture!" Severus knew very well who could have been so cruel, but he wailed his questions regardless.

* * *

Severus saw the stars in the chasm above the roof of the second Snape Manor blur. Simultaneously, he felt long repressed tears force their way from his eyes. He bit his lower lip to still it, but more tears came notwithstanding. 

End Part Twenty-Nine 


	30. BreakdownBreakthrough

**Remembrance and Renewal** by ** Avatar Arkmage ** and **Nigel Tatsuya**   
Chapter Thirty: Breakdown/Breakthrough 

Severus saw the stars in the chasm above the roof of the second Snape Manor blur. Simultaneously, he felt long repressed tears force their way from his eyes. He bit his lower lip to still it, but more tears came notwithstanding.

* * *

"They're going to question me!" Severus asked incredulously. "Why not say they are going to torture me! I've yet to heal fully!" 

"Alas, dear child. You bear the Death Eater's mark..." Albus lamented. "Regardless of how the mark came to be upon your arm, in the Ministry's eyes, you are a Death Eater." 

"I can't even give father a proper burial!" Severus whimpered, clutching Lucien's still form protectively in his arms. "The Ministry only will see Lucien Snape as an unreformed Death Eater. He'll be branded a criminal! People will spit on his grave! And curse his soul!" 

Albus lowered his head and tried to console the teenaged Severus Snape. "Oh father...! Father! First The Dark Lord tortures mother into insanity... The Death Eaters use me until I nearly die from my own injuries. Some one killed father with unspeakable torture..." Severus buried his face in Lucien's chest once more. "AND NOW THE MINISTRY WANTS TO 'QUESTION' ME!" 

"Severus, in the hospital you volunteered to spy for the light..." 

"I MEANT IT!" 

"I know you did, Severus." Albus said, sitting next to the distraught young man. "That is why I will testify on your behalf...they still however want to question you." 

"You mean they want to finish off what the Death Eaters started!" Severus retorted. "I was already partially guilty merely for being the son of Lucien Snape, and The Mark on my arm..." The dark-haired youth could no longer continue, and sobbed into his sire's still chest. 

Let me do what I can to help you." Albus wrapped his arms around the wounded youth, and held him as he broke down completely. As the minutes wore on, Severus's cries gradually become more like that of a frightened child, than of a young man. 

Albus did not know at the time, but Severus was not only grieving the loss of his parents, but also of Lily Evans and of the child that was never conceived. 

"I know I can't bury father in any public place." Severus said later that day, his eyes still puffy. "People will desecrate his grave once word gets out that he was a Death Eater." 

"We will have to act quickly." Albus said, noting how Lucien's body was stiffening. 

"I know the place." Severus dabbed at his eyes. "One place he was truly happy. Where he'll be happy even in his death..." 

Quietly, Severus, Albus Dumbledore, Minerva McGonagall, YiChung Chang, Filius Flitwick and the other Hogwarts Professors, along with some of Severus's University Professors dug a grave beneath the floor of Lucien Snape's potion lab. 

"Farewell, father. I'm sending your favourite vials and other lab equipment with you..." there was not a dry eye in the deserted potions lab as Severus leaned over his father, kissed him on the forehead and placed a stirrer and a beaker in his hands. "I love you, father! I may been nothing more than a disappointment to you, but I tried. I really did." Severus leaned close to his father's left ear, and whispered: "No matter what, I love you, father." 

With that, Lucien Snape was laid to rest in the very place he had been so content in his life. 

That night, after all the guests had left, Severus drew himself a hot bath and sank chin-deep into the water. He felt so dirty. Dirty because he had the mark on his arm. Dirty because he had failed to keep his parents safe. Dirty because he had caused Lily grief. Dirty because he had been a disappointment to everyone, including his father. Dirty because he had denied his son life...just the same as if he had killed him personally. Dirty because the Death Eaters had violated him...used him...not even Lily would want him to touch her ever again. 

Severus picked out a particularly abrasive and caustic bar of soap from the cupboard and a scrubbing brush with firm bristles. He returned to the bath and began scrubbing away his perceived filth. Try as he might, the putrefactive feeling remained, even after he had abraded his skin and started it bleeding in a few places. 

"Sevvie!" came Lucien's disembodied voice. 

Thinking the voice was only was product of his anguish, Severus continued at his task. 

"Sevvie! You will cease that immediately." Lucien's voice resounded once more. 

By now the stinging in his abraded skin increased to the point where it was almost unbearable, but Severus did not stop and dismissed Lucien's voice. 

"SEVERUS SNAPE!" Lucien's voice sounded one more time. 

Suddenly a ghostly hand struck the soap and brush out of Severus's grasp, causing the sorrowful teen to turn... 

...and stare into the face of LUCIEN SNAPE. 

"Father!" Severus cried at the ghost, leaping out of the bath and backing away. 

"Severus!" the ghostly figure said, moving cautiously towards his son. 

"No father! I did nothing wrong!" Severus cried, reaching for his wand even though his body was still covered with soap. 

"Sevvie...wait!" 

"NO!" Severus screamed, running out of the washroom. 

Severus slammed, and cast a locking charm on the washroom door behind him, but the spectre walked right through the door. 

"No father! Please! Whatever I did, I'm sorry! I won't do it again! Please please! Don't beat me! Please don't beat me, father, I'm not yet healed! I'm still in a lot of pain!" 

"Sevvie...wait...I..." 

But Severus wasn't listening. The frightened youth shifted out of the spirit's reach and sprinted out of Snape Manor with nothing more than his wand and the large quantity of soap on his flesh. He turned around and cast wards so powerful over the Snape Manor that not even a spirit could pass through them. 

"You'll not hurt me anymore, father!"

* * *

"Father?" came Harry's childlike voice from behind Severus, breaking into his reverie. "What are you doing outside. Aren't you coming to bed?" 

"Harry," Severus said without turning around. "Go away..." 

Severus realized too late that ordering Harry to go away would only make him more persistent. "Father? What's wrong?" 

Severus ignored Harry and tried to discreetly wipe his eyes on his sleeve. The subtle gesture did not escape Harry's keen gaze and Harry knelt beside his sire and pulled on his nightshirt. "Father...?" 

"I...SAID..." as though Severus had finally lost what little tenuous control he had left, he turned around and raised his hand "...GO..." the hand came down firmly "...AWAAAAAYY!" 

"AAAAAAAAAAAGH!" Harry screamed. 

Severus's hand struck flesh...HARD. 

"Waaah! ahhh! ahhh! ahhh!" cried Harry frantically. 

When Severus proverbially came to his senses, he gazed in horror at what he had done... 

He had backhanded... Rastus! 

"YOU HIT RASTUS!" bawled Harry. 

"Rastus!" Severus said, not believing what had just happened. "Rastus, I'm sorry! I-I didn't mean it..." 

The octarelf looked at Severus, a bright red mark darkening under his tearful eyes. "It is acceptable. Rastus expects his human masters to hit him. Wizards have always treated house elves like vermin. Rastus is used to it." To both Harry and Severus's astonishment, Rastus lowered his head. "But Rastus does not want Master Severus to hit young Snape so Rastus pushed young Snape out of the way. Rastus is very sorry for going against Master Severus...Master Severus be wanting Rastus to leave Snape Manor now?" 

Severus could not believe what he had just done. In fact, he was horrified. He had gone to strike Harry and had compounded matters by backhanding his treasured house elf in his stead. Why had he even struck out at Harry? Did he truly want Harry to fear him as he had feared his own father? Noting that Harry and Rastus would not remove their accursed stares from him until he answered, Severus retorted: "Did I not promise to provide you a place to stay and serve for the rest of your life?" 

"Yes sir." the elf bawled. 

"Are you dead yet?" asked Severus. 

"No, Master Severus." The woeful, amber-eyed elf rubbed his aching cheek and gently urged Harry to stay behind him. He would bear any forthcoming physical attacks from his beloved master personally. 

But Severus had no intention of striking anyone, nor had he expected to do so earlier. Internally, he wished he would have instead split into two separate entities, and that he had struck his own self...preferably the side of him that was most like his father. Severus had often wished he could create a potion that would kill that part of him for good. That violent part of him that lashed out at students and peers. That facet of his being that kept him from allowing himself the comfort of anyone close for fear of hurting them. 

As much as Severus had admired Lucien, he had also been terrified of him. He was still afraid of him. And he despised himself for becoming so much like him. Now Harry would fear him in the same way he had feared Lucien. Even Rastus would be afraid...he had not acted out against Rastus in the nearly seventeen years the elf had resided at Snape Manor. 

Being back at Snape Manor, while necessary to ensure Harry's future well being, was almost devastating for Severus. Many wounds, which festered invisible, but unhealing, beneath the figurative dressings of time and non- remembrance, were torn open and were bleeding once more. 

Severus had become a proficient occlumens largely out of necessity. Severus had been given the name "Snivellus" during his first year at Hogwarts due to his unfortunate tendency to cry quite often and with seemingly little provocation. James Potter and Sirius Black had noticed him crying on their very first day at Hogwarts and mocked him whenever they caught him crying thereafter. Even if they found him when he wasn't crying, and they were in the mood to harass him, James or Sirius could bring him to tears quite easily. 

Over time, Severus had learned to repress his tears and the painful memories that caused them by cluttering his mind with more productive pursuits. He developed many new and innovative potions, while repressing his grief over loved ones lost. Severus had created new ways to teach potions to even the most dull Hufflepuff while trying to forget the many varieties of abuse he had endured both in his youth and as an adult. While trying to forget his beloved green eyed angel and the only woman he had ever given his heart to, Severus perfected many of his better methods of espionage. 

He berated himself thoroughly now. He had almost hit the last vestige of Lily left in the world. He had almost hit his own son. And had struck his precious house elf. Severus had momentarily lost control and lashed out; unfortunately, against those dearest to him. He had to make amends. But how could he atone for abusing others as he had been abused for years? 

Before either Rastus or Harry could run off, Severus gathered both in his arms and charged back through the maple doors and into one of the nearest rooms, which, like many other rooms in Snape Manor, had been converted into a small potions lab. 

Severus motioned toward the ceiling, causing candles floating all over the room to ignite simultaneously. He then eased Harry to the floor and placed Rastus on a wide, leather chair in a corner of the Spartan room. With a docile, unhurried demeanor, Severus examined the darkening contusion his fist had left on the part-elf's cheek. Severus was sure he had struck Rastus with enough force to break a considerable number of blood vessels and might have even knocked some of the octarelf's teeth loose. "Open your mouth, Rastus." 

The pale servant complied. Thankfully, with the exception of some bleeding along the gums, the damage was not very severe. "Rastus, did you take your dream suppressor potion before you retired this evening?" Severus asked in an abnormally calm voice that disturbed Harry greatly. 

"Yes Master Severus." The elf wiped away tears as he spoke, only to have more tears replace them. 

"Then I'll not be able to give you a healing potion." Severus said, wiping the elf's face with his own sleeve. "But I can give you a topical preparation." 

"No need to go through such troubles for Rastus." 

Severus did not respond. As though he were merely brewing a routine potion, Severus walked over to one of the cupboards and gathered the ingredients he would need. He placed a small cauldron on the counter and spelled a fire under it. 

Harry grew ever more appalled as he watched the proficient man calmly prepare the topical potion, as though everything were normal. How could he carry on so peacefully when the situation was anything but peaceful? Harry slid into the chair, and enfolded Rastus in his arms. All his dreams of having a loving, compassionate father seemed to dissolve. Did father really not care about what he had done? Did he really not feel any remorse? How could father do such a thing? "You hit Rastus! Waaaaaaaaaaaah! You HIT RASTUS!" Harry shouted at his father's back. The young boy pulled the elf's hand away from the inflamed bruise and kissed it repeatedly, as though he were trying to make the damage and the pain go away by his affections alone. 

The tearful house elf shifted in the chair and returned Harry's embrace. "Young Snape is a merciful wizard. Rastus is appreciating of it. But Master Severus is a kind master and does not hurt Rastus because he is a cruel master..." 

"Father!" Harry gingerly slipped out of Rastus's shaking arms and stood beside Severus, who was placing herbs into a small, porcelain bowl. He threw both of arms around his father's waist. He desperately wanted to know why he had struck Rastus for seemingly no reason at all. "WHY? WHY? Why did you hit Rastus?" 

Severus did not answer as he added a few pinches of a powdery substance to the bowl and spooned an oily base into the caldron. He calmly added dried herbs to the bowl and picked up the pestle. At least, Harry thought he appeared calm, until Severus began to pulverize the mixture and broke the bowl itself in the process. 

Harry was used to seeing Professor Snape doing everything with a dexterity he had never seen anyone else match. The fragments of the bowl, the spilled powders and herbs and Severus's trembling hands indicated that all was not well with the potions master. 

Harry retrieved another bowl from a nearby cupboard and handed it to Severus, who quickly, and silently prepared a second batch of healing salve. When the ointment was completed, Severus spelled it cool and knelt in front of the octarelf and tenderly applied it to the bruised area. "It will absorb into your skin." Severus began, frowning at the house elf's tears which were washing away the potion before it had the chance to work. "Should the pain not subside within ten minutes, inform me, and I shall concoct a bit more." 

When Rastus's tears washed away the last of the ointment, Severus took the elf in his arms and tilted his head back so that the tears would be rerouted. He then applied the rest of the topical preparation, and held the elf in his arms until the potion began to change colour. "Master Severus you is so kind!" 

Because Harry was staring at Severus's face, he noticed the slightest shift in his father's expression. Severus had chafed at the praise. And why not? He did not deserve it. He had caused the injury to Rastus in the first place, after all. 

The salve quickly disappeared into the part-elf's skin, and the red and purple bruise began to fade almost instantaneously. Harry leaned over and kissed the house elf's cheek once more. He just did not know what else to do or say. 

Severus put Rastus back in the chair, then began to put away the equipment. Once he had finished, he started to spell the area clean. It was then, that both Harry and Rastus noticed that Severus was quivering ever more and more as he worked. When he knelt to put the caldron in one of the low cupboards, he upset a few jars on the shelf immediately above it and sent them crashing to the floor. 

Rastus immediately stood to assist Severus in the clean up, but Severus silkily told Rastus to remain seated. Harry took a few tentative steps toward his sire and froze when he saw the man's hands trembling so much that he could not even hold the dusting brush properly. Severus drew his wand and spelled the debris into a nearby bin before moving toward one of the empty chairs in the room. 

He never made it to the chair. 

Severus lost his footing and fell, but did not hit the floor. Seeing what was happening, Rastus quickly sprang from the chair and caught his cherished master in his strong arms and let him on the floor gently. Harry joined them upon the cool marble. 

"Father?" Harry, seeing that Severus was so uncharacteristically unsteady, moved behind him in case he fell backwards. He lovingly put both hands on his father's shoulders and scooted up behind him, saying 'lean against me' without words "You...you didn't really intend to hit Rastus did you?" 

Severus buried his face once more in his hands. He did not want Harry, or anyone else for that matter, to see him this way. 

"Hang on..." The boy's eyes widened. "You... you were going to hit ME, weren't you?" 

No answer. 

"Father!" Harry's already high pitched voice went even higher. "WHY! Why were you going to hit me?" 

Behind his hands, Severus engaged in yet another battle in the ongoing war against his own tears, even as they came at him in full force with more reinforcements forthcoming. 

"Are you angry with me?" Harry whimpered. "Did I do something bad? What did I do? What did I do? Whatever I did, I'm sorry! I won't do it again!" 

"You did nothing." was all Severus could manage. It horrified him how much Harry sounded like him when he was younger. How many times had he said variants of those very words to his own father? The difference was, Lucien would have hit him for even asking. Sometime Lucien beat Severus for infractions Severus was not even aware he had committed. Sometimes it seemed that Lucien had beat him simply because he was angry. 

Harry moved in front of Severus and closed his eyes. "Go on then. Go on and hit me." 

Severus was stunned. 

"I must have done something really bad to deserve it." Harry said, remaining steadfast with his eyes closed. "I feel awful that Rastus got hurt instead of me, and I don't want you to stay angry, so go on then. Smack me. Get it out of your system." 

Severus lightly put one hand on Harry's shoulder and the other on Rastus. "As I've said before, you did nothing. Harry, Rastus...I apologize. It was very wrong of me to strike either of you. I have no intention of doing so now. Neither of you did anything warranting corporal punishment." said Severus firmly, even as unshed tears glistened in his eyes. Inwardly, he thought of all the deeds he had done, and had not done in his youth, and wondered which of those had warranted all the corporal punishments he had received from Lucien Snape. "Now go back to bed, both of you. I wish to be alone." 

Rastus stood immediately, bowed and made to leave, but Harry stayed him by grabbing his wrist. 

"Young Snape, Master Severus has given us a direct order..." said Rastus. 

"No." Harry stated. 

Severus glared at his son, and Harry glared back at him in return. "Rastus, I order you to stay." 

The house elf looked from one to the other, not sure whose orders he should follow. The father who was his master for many years? Or the son, who held his wrist so firmly that escape without the use of magic would be difficult. 

"Harry..." Severus said warningly. 

"No. We will not leave you alone." Harry said, watching Severus holding an intense look on his face while trying to blink the tears away. "I think being alone is the last thing you need right now." 

"How can you presume..." 

"Because I may not have known you long, but I know you well enough to know when something is really wrong. And I know right now, you need us." Harry answered back, tears running down his own cheeks. Harry paused to sniffle a few times before going on. "And family does not abandon a family member who needs them. I won't let you push me or Rastus away this time." 

Severus opened his mouth to respond, but the lump growing inexorably in his throat inhibited his speech. He could only stare, unblinking at Harry. Harry stared back with tears running freely down his cheeks. In desperation, Severus attempted to change the subject. "Harry, tell me why you came looking for me? What woke you?" 

"I had a nightmare." Harry whimpered. "I dreamt I was walking up and the down the street in front the entrance to Snape Manor. Only, I felt scared to go through the barrier. My whole body hurt like I had been healing from bad injuries. Injuries that I barely survived. And I remembered being scared that my father would beat me when I got home." 

Although Severus was caught off guard at this, he willed his expression neutral. 

"Then I realized that I wasn't me. Because that father I was afraid of, wasn't you..." Harry snivelled. "It was grandfather. I was scared he was going to use a belt, or a whip to beat me. Maybe even beat me until I passed out. I was hoping he would only slap me or something, but on the side of my face that wasn't so broken." 

It took all of Severus's will to keep his composure. He would not lose control in front of anyone again. 

"I kept thinking...'please don't beat me father, I'm already in pain.' And it's true, in the dream I couldn't walk well, it hurt to sit down, and my entire body ached a lot." Harry shivered at the memory of the pain. "Then I decided that I should go home because if I didn't go right then, my father might be even more angry and hurt me even worse. I was about to walk into the tree when I kicked something on the ground by the barrier..." 

Severus almost begged Harry not to continue. He did not wish to be reminded of this. 

"And then I woke up." said Harry. "I realized that Rastus was sleeping next to me, and that you weren't in the bed, so I figured that you were in the loo. I thought back on the dream whilst I was waiting, and realized that I was not me in the dream... I was you, and I was scared of what grandfather was going to do to me." 

Silence. 

"When you didn't come back for a while, I searched around Snape Manor for you, but you weren't anywhere inside. So I decided to check outside. Rastus was also awake by then, and came to tell me to come back to bed, but I didn't want to go back to sleep without knowing where you were. I really enjoy sleeping next to you, you know. In fact, I really enjoy being by you all the time. " 

Harry sniffled and regarded his father with the love only a child could hold for a parent. "I never had a loving parent before, and I don't know, but I just love being around you. I feel so safe, so happy...like the world is a nice place, like life is something to be enjoyed." 

Severus, who continued to stare unblinking at Harry, felt a second wave of tears well in his eyes. 

"Another reason I wanted to find you was because I had this strange feeling that the dream wasn't a normal dream. It felt something like when we did occlumency together, and I managed to get into your mind." Harry paused, and wrapped his arms even tighter around his father's neck. "It felt like a memory, but it wasn't my memory... it was your memory wasn't it?" 

"I do not wish to elaborate." Severus retorted. 

"Is it possible I'm doing legilimency while I'm sleeping?" 

"No. Legillimency would require that you consciously use magic, and you cannot do that safely right now. And you cannot do it as you slumber." Severus sighed. "It would appear that we have a deeper connection than that." 

"Deeper?" 

"Yes. Recall that you once believed I could read minds?" 

Harry strained his child's mind to remember what seemed to have occurred so long ago. It felt like another lifetime entirely. "Uh huh?" 

"Well barring the use of Legilimency, I am incapable of delving into the thoughts of others." Severus explained. "Although when you first came to Hogwarts, I felt a connection to you I could not explain. I could not read your mind, but there was what could best be defined as an empathic connection." 

"Like how you always seemed to know when I needed help from you? You could feel when I was scared or in trouble? And you knew I was there even when I was hiding under the invisibility cloak?" 

"Yes." Severus replied, finding it somewhat odd that although both Rastus and Harry still had their hands on him, he was not ill at ease because of it. If anything, their touches were comforting. "At first, I thought it was merely because of our indirect connection through the Dark Lord ... meaning that your scar and my Dark Mark somehow enhanced our abilities to connect on that level with one another." 

"But it's not, is it?" Harry extrapolated. "Is this connection because we're father and son?" 

"It would appear so." Severus turned to Harry and then to Rastus. "It is late, both of you. You'd best go to bed." 

"No father." Harry said defiantly. "I want to know more about the dream...no the memories I was picking up from you... it's still bothering you isn't it? You were thinking about it just this evening right?" 

"It is of no consequence to you." Severus snapped. "Now go back to bed...I will join you shortly." 

Harry shook his head and just held onto Rastus's hand while hugging Severus tighter. "I don't think being alone is what you need right now. It's not what any of us need." 

"You do not understand..." 

"I do understand!" Harry countered, noticing that Severus's eyes glistened more than normal and he hadn't blinked for quite some time. "You think I don't understand things just because I'm a little kid? You think I don't understand what it's like to be... to be abused? To be scared of the people who take care of me? You think I don't know what it feels like to be punished for breaking rules I didn't even know I broke?" 

"Harry, you did not break any rules this eve- ..." 

"Then why did you try to hit me?" Harry started whimpering once again. "If I didn't do anything wrong, why were you so mad at me?" 

"I wasn't mad AT you...!" 

"Then," Harry clutched Severus so tightly that the older man could no longer move, "why did you try to hit me? Are you mad at me?" Harry fully broke down. "You... do you... hate... me.. so... much?" 

"I do not hate you!" Severus's voice faded to the whisper that came across the same as though he were shouting. "If I hated you, I would not have saved your life all those times! If I hated you, I would have given you more detentions than you already received!" his voice dropped a few more decibels. "If I truly hated you, I would not have brought you back to Snape Manor and spent time with you here... If I hated you, I would have sent you back to the Dursleys..." 

Severus stopped when he saw horror race across Harry's features then turn back to sadness once more. "Then...why did you try to hit me?" 

At that, Severus buried his face in his hands. He had never felt more guilt than he did at this moment. He did not want to tell Harry the reason he had struck out at him...he did not fully understand why himself. "Just...I-I lost control! I've already apologized for it. It was an error on my part. Now go back to bed!" 

"No." Harry stood resolute. "You can punish me for disobeying you, but I won't leave you right now. And.." although tears flowed copiously down his cheeks, Harry did not bother to brush them away. "I think I know why you did it..." 

Severus looked up in awe. 

"You did it because...because your father did it to you." Harry did not miss the microgesture...his father flinched. "I saw bits and pieces of your life when I was a spirit. I saw him beat you a lot... and the memory I felt from you earlier. You were very afraid of him. You're still scared of him now, even though he's dead!" 

Severus winced once more although he did his best to look like he was scowling. 

"And you feel betrayed because the one who was supposed to care for you the most hurt you the most too." Even though his de-aged brain caused him to interpret things in more simplified ways, Harry could tell by his father's reactions that he was dead on. "Do you think you deserved what he did to you?" 

"Yes, I deserved most of the punishments I received." 

"But not all of them!" Harry persisted. "You know what I think? I think you deserved almost NONE of them! Do you think you deserved all those thrashings? Being immersed in water hot enough to burn you? Did you say things that were so bad you deserved to be slapped in the face for them? Sometimes grandfather slapped you when you didn't say anything at all! What could you have done that was so bad, that you deserved to be flogged with the belt until you were bleeding?" 

"Harry! Stop this! I do not wish to discuss this matter further. It is past..." 

"I'm not finished!" Harry shouted. "I was going to say that you were beaten so much...maybe you think it's normal, and it was almost a reflex that you went to hit me." 

"There's nothing normal about..." Severus finally attempted to blink the tears that had been collecting in his eyes away, but the action sent the tears down his cheeks instead. 

"Tell me what's wrong, You... you're really... sad about something aren't you, father?" 

Severus could only shake his head. 

Harry stared at his father, and images of flinching from the violent hands of Lucien Snape flashed in his mind. In concert with the fear, Harry felt an underlying sense of shame, betrayal and a need for approval and love from the abusive man. Overlaying it all, was great sorrow. 

Severus realized what Harry was trying to do, and desperately used his skills at Occlumency to force Harry from his mind. But Harry could not be pushed away completely, and from the little boy, he felt deep feelings of concern, worry, and a love that was so deep that it threatened to overwhelm him. Harry rested his chin on Severus's shoulder and the older man immediately felt a sense of absolution along with even more love than he thought possible from one so tiny as Harry. It was then that Severus realized that there was nothing magical about the connection he shared with his child. The bond was unfathomable, all encompassing, and overwhelming. 

The bond was spiritual. 

"I think I ought to tell you something." Harry leaned into Severus's shoulder more. "About Grandfather." 

"...!" 

"While I was outside my body, I saw the time after you took the Dark Mark." Harry began,"you and grandad made all those potions for Mouldyshorts, and then when you were done, you went home. Whilst Grandad was finishing things in the lab, Voldemort..." 

"Do not speak his name!" Severus hissed. 

"Sorry, Mouldyshorts then, well he came to see Grandfather, and he asked for eight hours worth of the Animalia potion..." 

Severus recoiled at that. "Harry...STOP! STOP THIS AT ONCE!" 

"No father, please just listen." Harry continued. "Grandfather would not give him the potions. He started smashing the vials of Animalia potion so that Mouldyshorts couldn't use them against you." 

The dour potion master's face turned ashen. 

"Grandfather said that when the Animalia had been used against him..." 

"GREAT MERLIN!" Severus gasped. "It was used against him too!" 

"It was. Only from what I could tell, the people that took it got the full eight hours of it." 

"Oh...oh..." Severus was shivering now, tears wobbling in his eyes. "How...how...how did he ever survive?" 

"I really don't know, seeing how it left you hospitalized for weeks when about two hours worth of it was used against you." Harry gently rubbed Severus's back. "I don't know how he survived, but Grandfather was against it being used to hurt you. He said it left him so damaged that he was mentally ill afterwards." 

Severus buried his face in his hands once more. "Mentally ill? OH MERLIN! Before your grandmother was tortured to insanity, she said your grandfather was not an abusive man before taking the mark! She said that the Mark would make me behave like him." 

"I think grandmother never knew about the Animalia potion being used against grandfather. I saw what it did to you, and well it scares me to think what six more hours of it would have done. But I thought you should know about this..." Harry said. "Grandfather still loved you, loved you enough to try and save you from having the same thing he had. About his being so mean and violent, I wonder if he couldn't really help how he behaved." 

"Oh gods!" Severus moaned, his voice completely lacking the silkiness it had ordinarily. "Oh gods! Eight hours of the Animalia potion..? He would have sustained extensive physical trauma... massive amounts of brain damage. Permanent injuries that would cause him discomfort for the rest of his life." Injuries that Severus understood only too well. 

"Grandad didn't listen Mouldyshorts and went about the lab destroying the racks holding the vials of Animalia potion. He ended up breaking all but one of the racks of the potion. But he really tried to wreck them all." Harry went on. "Before he could smash the last rack, Mouldyshorts cast the Cruciatus curse on him." 

Now all the glass cuts, the muscle spasms and the bruising he had seen on his father's corpse made sense to Severus. Lucien Snape must have died writhing under the cruciatus curse; upon the broken glass of the destroyed Animalia potion vials...the spasms from the cruciatus curse probably caused him to hit shelves, chairs and other objects in the immediate area. Their impacts left the broken bones and the deep bruising. 

Lucien Snape, for all his abuse toward his family, had died protecting Severus. Died to keep him from suffering the same fate he had endured. 

"I thank you for sharing that with me, Harry." Severus said, his affect once more calm. Abnormally so. "Now it is time for you to go to bed. I have things I must finish here." 

Harry nodded to Rastus and both of them walked toward the door. Harry turned the knob and took a few steps in place. He then shut the door again without exiting. As Harry predicted, Severus turned around posthaste to see that he was really alone. As Harry also suspected, there were more tears on Severus's face and his lower lip was trembling. 

"It's okay, father." Harry returned to Severus's side and pulled his sire into his arms. "Go on. Cry. Neither of us will think any less of you for it." 

By this time, Severus had no choice in the matter. It had taken virtually every measure of control he possessed to force a straight face until but a few moments ago. Now he had none in reserve. 

Harry pulled his father into a full embrace and held on tightly, patting the man's back gently. "It's okay, father. No one but us will know. We won't tell." 

Severus hid his face against Harry's chest and cried freely for the first time. He had never been allowed to do so growing up, and he had never allowed himself to carry on so even while alone. All the times he had ever cried in recent memory, were because he either could not help it, or were done in jest; to convince Voldemort of his being a broken man. 

He made no sound but an occasional raspy sob, and Harry never loosened his hold on him all the while. Years of loneliness, guilt, fear, sorrow, shame, pain, and hopelessness seemed to turn into nothing more than the benign salts, proteins and enzymes of the potion master's tears. And there were many tears. 

"I love you father." Harry said, rubbing Severus's back and kissing the top of his head. "I know you don't like to cry at all, and none of us like to do it in front of other people." 

Severus' reply was more quiet sobbing. 

"And you probably think of it as one of your worst character flaws." Harry went on. "But I don't think of it that way..." 

"You do not?" Severus choked. 

"No. It's part of what makes you who you are. " Harry answered. "My father was often called 'Snivellus' a long time ago because he cried easily. The fact that you're crying now tells me that time didn't change you very much. You're still my father. You're still the same man who didn't have the Dark Mark on his arm when I was created, the one who some would say wears his heart on his sleeve. You still do that, although I think you've figured out how to hide your sleeve so that your heart doesn't show. It forced you to become a great occlumens... but inside, you're still my father." 

The raven haired man raised his head at last, his eyes puffy and his cheeks irritated from the tears. There was something very different about him now. Although he looked positively rundown and bedraggled, his eyes no longer seemed hollow, and there was a more serene look to them now. Harry could not describe the change even to himself, except to say that his father had the feel of a river, one that had been polluted for too many years, now running clear. Alive once more. Renewed. 

Harry kissed the man's cheek once more. "I love you, father." 

A look of wonder spread over Severus' decidedly less intense features, and a faint smile soon joined it. "I love you too, my son." 

Because Severus had cried so much, both his grey silk nightshirt and Harry's pajamas were damp. Severus was about to grab another grey nightshirt from the chest of drawers to wear when Harry put a nightshirt the colour of the first leaves of spring into the older man's hands. "Wear this one instead." 

Rather than engaging in another row he could never hope to win, Severus nodded and discarded his grey nightshirt. "Thank you, I believe I will." and he pulled on the vibrant green silk nightshirt. 

Harry looked approvingly at his sire and realized that the Severus Snape standing before him was somewhat less the bitter potions master he had come to know over the years, and just a little more the man Harry had followed as a spirit. 

And that was good.

* * *

When they retired for the night, Severus made no protest that Harry, who was now wearing pyjamas that roughly matched Severus's nightshirt, joined him in the bed. Not wanting to exclude another member of the family, Severus invited Rastus to join them, which the house elf did gladly. 

Having exhausted himself completely, Severus was the first to fall asleep. For a long while, Harry lay awake in bed, watching his father as he slumbered. Harry marvelled at just how different he looked. The tense look that seemed to remain on the potion master's face even while he slept was greatly reduced, and his skin even seemed to have regained some of its colour. Well, perhaps not colour, Harry decided, but his complexion did look a lot less sickly. And he seemed to be more at ease with the physical contact, for he did not cringe or push Rastus away when the house elf rolled closer to his master in his sleep. 

Harry took his customary place on his father's bicep and threw his arm over the man's lithe chest, which was now rising and falling slowly as he slept more peacefully than Harry could ever remember him doing in the past. Harry realized that he was not in the least bit tired, but he did not mind. He enjoyed watching the grouchy, dour, and troubled Professor Snape looking so at peace. He could watch him this way forever. His father. 

End Chapter Thirty 


	31. Starting Near The End

**Remembrance and Renewal** by **Avatar Arkmage** and **Nigel Tatsuya**  
Chapter Thirty-One: **Starting Near the End**

"We have methods for extracting the information we require." the ministry inquisitor shouted at the pale,severely crippled man. When Lucius Malfoy, who was bound unnecessarily to an iron chair, just stared at his captors, another drop of Veritiserum was dropped on his tongue.

"No! Stop!" Draco exclaimed, wanting to go to his father, but finding himself frozen to the spot. "He can't answer you, much less speak, in case you wastes of space are stupid as well as unobservant!"

No one in the cavernous room, which was illuminated only by magical sconces along the flagstone wall, seemed to hear. They seemed to not be aware of Draco's presence at all.

Exasperated, the inquisitor took a step closer to the white-blonde haired man and slapped him across the face.

"Hold on, you can't do that!" Draco admonished. "He's a Malfoy, you worthless bampots!

"You think just because you're a Malfoy you can manipulate your way out of any situation without consequence?" One of the other inquisitors stepped forward and put his face just inches away from Lucius's face.

Despite being clad only in scratchy, grey prisoner's attire, Lucius Malfoy managed to stubbornly hold an aristocratic air about him. "You think you can bribe everyone? You think you can buy people's silence with just a few galleons? Well, we shall tolerate your seditious ways no longer!"

The group of inquisitors backed away, allowing three shadowy figures dressed in tattered robes to take their place in front of Lucius. Draco shivered as the ambient temperature of the room dropped, and despair enveloped him. "DEMENTORS? You can't! You can't!"

Lucius screamed through his still wired jaws and struggled against the ropes binding him to the chair. One of the inquisitors drew his wand and transfigured the smooth surface of Lucius's chair into spikes, causing the already shrieking man to shriek in agony.

"NOOOOOOOOOOO!!" Draco screamed, bearing every facet of his sire's pain like so many shards of a broken crystal.

His surroundings immediately changed, and Draco found himself standing just outside of Malfoy Manor. "What are you doing?! Those are mother's things!"

The Aurors ignored Draco, and continued searching through even the ornaments Narcissa had purchased for the gardens of Malfoy Manor. Several Aurors walked out of the great mansion with all varieties of Dark Arts objects and anything of monetary value.

"What are you louts doing?!" Draco shouted. "Those belong to us!"

"It's a shame." One of the young ministry employees remarked. "Even with the sale of the Malfoy's assets, there will be no way to pay restitutions to all the victims of this family's shady dealings."

"Especially to those who lost family and friends to these gilded criminals." Another auror commented. "I always knew the Malfoys were a bad lot. Thank goodness their activities with He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named were exposed. Who knows how many more innocents would have been injured or killed."

"Stop!" Draco shouted, both feeling guilty about the innocent victims and horrified at the same time by the ministry ransacking the only place he knew as home. "Those are my paintings! My Quidditch gear! My golden chess set!"

The pale boy lunged at the auror who was carrying off several of Draco's finest robes. The auror seemed unfazed and continued to load the items into a trunk. When Draco attempted to retrieve his robes from the trunk, the auror pulled the fine robes Draco was dressed in right off of his body, all while seeming to not see Draco at all.

"How am I supposed to LIVE!?" Draco screamed as the aurors and ministry employees apparated away with all of the confiscated items, leaving him destitute, sitting on the walkway wearing nothing more than his underclothes.

"What's the matter, Draco?" came Harry Snape's voice.

The surroundings faded once more, and Draco found himself seated on the floor in Snape's chambers, still clad only in his underclothes. Harry Snape moved closer, holding out a tin of muggle fizzy drink to him. Draco did not know what to say to the little boy and accepted the tin from the thoughtful child. "You must be cold." Harry commented as he wrapped Draco in a child's blanket, which was printed with animated bludgers and quaffles.

"You don't look well. What's wrong?" Harry asked, helping Draco over to the sofa.

Feeling comforted by the young boy, Draco was about to give him a simplified account of what had transpired, when little Harry Snape morphed into his accursed classmate Harry Potter.

"Potter!" Draco shouted, enraged. "You were the one who started all of this! You had to open your big mouth and tell the ministry on my father! Well I have nothing to lose, Potter! You'll pay!" Draco punched the other boy first across one cheek and then the other. He then pinned Potter to the sofa and proceeded to choke him, taking great pleasure in the feel of the structures in Potter's scrawny neck yielding. Harry Potter morphed back into Harry Snape once more. "UUWAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!" the little boy cried as best he could without an adequate supply of oxygen. "Daddy daddy!!"

"DRACO! WHAT ARE YOU DOING TO MY SON?" Snape bellowed.

Draco sat up in his hospital bed heaving dryly. It took several minutes for him to wake fully, and several more minutes before his breathing returned to normal.

"Draco!" Nurse Asphault charged into the room with Dr. Gasket close behind. "Are you all right?"

"Good Heavens! We could hear you shouting in the hallway." Dr. Gasket commented, assessing Draco. "What ever is the matter?"

"I'm fine." Draco drawled. "I just had a nightmare."

"Would you like something to help you sleep?"

"No thank you, I think I can go back to sleep on my own." Draco forced a yawn. "I'm really tired."

"Very well, good night then," the two women said as they replaced the blankets on the youth and left the room. Draco lay in bed thinking on the strange dream he had had. He knew he would in all likelihood not be able to sleep that night, with Mudblood Granger's ratting out his father's location, and the ministry wasting no time in apprehending him, Draco's mind was far too full too allow him to rest.

He also was deeply disturbed by the dream. What if the ministry did raid Malfoy Manor and seize their wealth? And what of Uncle Severus's son Harry? What was his connection, if any, to Harry Potter? Why did Harry Snape turn into Harry Potter and then back again?

What if the ministry were already planning to raid Malfoy Manor? Draco sat up. With the novelty of the muggle hospital expended, Draco wanted to go home more than anything else. He had to go home. He would escape the hospital as soon as he could walk a bit better. No, it would be better if he could run rather than walk. Draco sat up in bed and began planning the best route out of the hospital in his mind.

* * *

Severus and Harry spent the days that followed in seclusion, not leaving Snape Manor's grounds for any reason. Although Harry still wondered how Draco was faring, he knew that staying hidden was the best course of action for both father and himself for the moment.

The ministry would be watching the muggle hospital intently now, and aurors were likely patrolling the streets of muggle London .

Except for the fact that he longed to visit his Grandmother, who was still in the spell damage ward of St. Mungos, Harry didn't really mind this self imposed confinement. In fact, he greatly enjoyed spending his days simply staying close to his father, who no longer shrank from his close proximity or touch. Severus even seemed to revel in the many opportunities to teach, and Harry's seemingly boundless enthusiasm to learn.

Since the day Severus had completely broken down, or as Harry had put it, 'crying loads to make up for all the years he didn't cry even though he was so very sad,' the bond between father and son grew exponentially, becoming something nearly indomitable and unbreakable. Like a true six year old, Harry loved Severus without condition, and not even crying in front of him, or on him for that matter, could make Harry think any less of his father.

Initially, Severus cursed himself for being so weak, for adults, especially adult wizards, did not cry did they? Surely Harry might even be ashamed of him for being such a faulty example of an adult. But when Severus mustered the courage to look upon his precious child's face once the worst was over, he saw that Harry had also been crying in silence. The boy had been seeking to offer comfort. Little Harry did not judge. He loved unconditionally. No matter Severus's faults or his past deeds, Harry loved him.

It was only then that Severus finally allowed himself to accept a profound love he had never dared imagine would exist for him alone before. Young children did not typically have very close friends, because they are closest to those who cared for them. They loved their parents wholly. Their parents could be murderous, neglectful, extremely poor or, as Severus was most familiar with, abusive, and yet their children loved them still. Even after those times Lucien had beaten young Severus unconscious, Severus had still loved him; just as Harry loved him without regard for anything that passed had between them before.

For the first time in years, Severus was able to reciprocate in kind. He had never intended to do more than to see to Harry's care and well-being. He certainly hadn't wanted to love the boy as only a parent could love a child, but he did.

How sad that their fates would soon separate them once more. It was only a matter of time before The Dark Lord summoned him to make potions again. Only a matter of time before the Dark Lord would beat, curse or otherwise torture him again; to be sure that the Severus Snape who had once betrayed their cause, would have no further thoughts of doing so in the future for fear of getting worse. Only a matter of time before even he would be broken or damaged beyond hope. Only a matter of time before the Dark Lord found Severus's usefulness expended, and would terminate him. In both the figurative and the literal sense.

"You will always have a home to return to after you destroy the Dark Lord. A home for you and your children when our world is at peace once more." Severus mouthed silently to Harry's sleeping form one night. "The Dark Lord attempted to destroy you, because he believes that you have the power to vanquish him. I share that belief, and I also believe that if there is any justice still in existence in this accursed world, you will emerge the victor."

Harry shifted in his sleep, his tiny, pyjama-clad arm flopping onto Severus's hand. Severus did not pull his hand away and continued to muse in silence. "I regret that I will in all likelihood not live to share in your victory. To live in that world without The Dark Lord." Severus paused to brush some of Harry's long hair away from his angelic face. "But you have your duties and I have mine. The river of your destiny does not run the same course as my own, they will soon diverge."

In his dream, Harry saw a shadowy battleground littered with the corpses of aurors, robed figures with masks, members of the order, and Harry's friends. Standing beside him, looking worse for wear was his beloved father, whose eyes were glazed in death.

"You have your duties, and I have mine." The dream Severus stated to Harry.

"Father!" Harry called, his deep voice, and the fact that he was staring almost eye to eye with his father indicated that he was a young adult once more. "It does not have to be this way. We can both live."

"The river of your destiny follows a different course than my own, it diverges here," was all Severus answered before rushing at Voldemort, potion bottles flying out of his pockets and striking the Dark Lord with the force of hailstones. With the last of his energy reserves, Severus blasted Voldemort with a powerful curse from his wand. "NOW HARRY!! Cast the KILLING curse! Do it Now!!" The Dark Lord shot the undulation curse back at Severus simultaneously, ending the life of the man who had helped give Harry life. The momentum from Severus's gallant rush sent his corpse careening onto the Dark Lord's and exploded on impact.

"NOOOOOOOOOO!!" Harry screamed, his anger and horror so great that his wand trembled in his hand as he cast the Avada Kedavra curse at the Dark Lord. The curse shattered the shield that the Dark Lord had cast in front of him and killed him instantaneously.

"Father!" Harry cried, looking all around him and seeing no signs of life anywhere on the battlefield. He moved to were Voldemort's corpse was and looked for any part of Severus Snape's body, but found only charred scraps of clothing, blood, random chunks of burned flesh and the broken glass of the potion vials. "We could have both lived! You weren't supposed to die! You have no permission to die!"

The dreamlike images changed, and Harry found himself standing beside his friends and mentors on the deck of a small boat which looked as though it had been freshly built. Even the wood of the mast still smelled of the sweet oils used to cure it. Beside Harry's boat was another one built similarly, but its wood was rotting in many places and its sails were tattered and full of gaping holes. On the deck of the wretched boat were James and Lily Potter, Cedric Diggory, Sirius Black and his dear father...Severus Snape.

"Father! Daddy! Mother! Sirius! Cedric!" Harry leaned over and stretched out a hand. "Come! Come over to his boat!"

But none of them reached for his hand. Not even Severus. When Harry leaned even closer, the wretched ship seemed to move away, even further out of his reach. "The river of our destinies diverges here." Severus lamented as their ship veered away down the opposite fork on the river.

Harry climbed up, intending to jump into the river and swim after his family and friends, but he was held back by unseen hands. "Nooo!" Harry screamed, watching the wretched ship disappear into the distance. "Nooo!!'

"Nooo! It doesn't have to be this way!" Harry sat up and grabbed the collar of Severus's cadet blue nightshirt.

Severus blinked in surprise. "What? What doesn't have to be what way?"

"Oh father! I had the most terrible dream." Harry began, his tiny body still shaking as he recounted his 'nightmare' in gross detail.

Severus willed his expression neutral as he listened to his son's words without attaching any true emotions to his reactions. Inwardly, he knew that Harry had been able to somehow hear his thoughts, even though the child had been asleep at the time. "Headmaster Dumbledore told me about the prophecy, and how I'm the one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord." Harry went on, hugging his father tightly. "But...I want you to promise that you won't do anything to get yourself killed. When we do face Vol-Mouldyshorts, promise me you'll stay at my side, that you won't make a human shield out of yourself just to protect me..."

"Harry, do not concern yourself with matters of that nature now." Severus responded, gently but firmly pushing Harry back onto his pillow. "For the moment, we are safe and we both need sleep. Try to..."

"...Please father." Harry whispered, his large green eyes watering. "If I do fight Volde-Mouldyshorts and I defeat him, I want you to survive too! Victory, well, it's supposed to be good, and people all over the wizarding world will be happy, but it's going to mean so little to me if you're dead. If you're dead, victory is not going to feel any different to me, than if the side of the light lost! Actually I'd rather lose and have you still alive than have you dead whilst we won!"

Severus wracked his brain for a quick course of action, he could not bear to see Harry weep again. "Er...Harry...uh..."

"There is a muggle phrase 'sweet taste of victory' as if victory had a flavour you could taste with your tongue." Harry sniffled. "But it won't taste that way for me if you die, victory is going to taste just like boiling poison!"

"Curious how muggles think," Severus turned the little boy over and started rubbing his back in the hopes it would stop him from crying or that it would at least distract him somehow.

Too late. "It would be better if I died too." Harry said sniffling. "You never were truly free in your life. You live just like a slave. You're human house elf to cruel masters."

"How am I similar to a house elf?" Severus asked

"You have to go to your master whenever he calls." Harry said through clenched teeth. "You have to do what he says! He'll hurt you if you don't obey him or if you make a mistake. He'll beat you if he's merely in a bad mood! It's as though you don't own yourself."

"Harry," Severus decided that pretending to sleep was the only way to have the matter dropped. He lay back and closed his crystal black eyes. "I would like to rest now, for I am weary. We shall discuss this at length later."

Harry nodded and settled back beneath the covers.

Severus rolled over and continued to muse as flatly as he could. Harry could probably sense his emotions more than anything. Of late, Severus thought frequently on the spiritual connection between Harry and himself and how it seemed to have strengthened. Whilst nearly drowning in the Dursley's bath, Harry had somehow called one of Severus's long suppressed memories to the forefront. While Harry wandered the threshold between death and life, Harry's spirit followed Severus through his past, as though they were linked somehow. "I'll always be a part of you," he heard Harry's voice suddenly from somewhere deep in his psyche. "Just as you're a part of me."

'Telepathy?' Severus wondered. Was their spiritual bond not only empathic, but telepathic too? He decided to try something, and formed the words clearly in his mind: "With that reasoning, your victory will be my victory also."

Silence. Only the youth's gentle breathing could be heard, and there were no words mysteriously appearing in Severus's mind. Thinking it was all just a coincidence, Severus sank deeper beneath the blankets and began to clear his mind as any good occlumens would. Just as the last of his wakefulness left him, Severus heard: "Then your death will be my death as well."

Although Snape had originally planned to stay at Snape Manor for only three days or so, he elected to stay until Harry could return to his former age. The break from living in the cold dungeons at Hogwarts was therapeutic and even pleasurable at times for him.

And though he had feared being back at Snape Manor would bring back too many painful memories, there were happy memories past and present there as well.

Harry looked as though he were truly home, like belonged nowhere else but at Snape Manor. Severus noticed that Harry often lacked the preoccupied look he wore at Hogwarts like a part of his uniform, and appeared almost carefree as a young child should. He explored the mansion that would someday be his a little more each day and found every stair, every room and every item within to be filled with endless wonder.

Yes, Severus concluded upon finding Harry sitting on the floor in one of the makeshift labs studying a preserved creature in a jar, Harry looked like he truly belonged in Snape Manor. Harry was a Snape, after all.

Severus was clad in an old pair of his well tailored trousers, and a white shirt which looked as though it had seen a potion accident or two. Father and son made their way out onto the spacious grounds of Snape Manor. Rastus trudged along after them, levitating an entire toolshed's worth of garden tools in front of him.

"We're going to plant things in the garden?" Harry, clad in a bright blue shirtsleeves and shorts set and carrying a child sized rake, asked excitedly. "But won't we have to leave before the plants have time to grow?"

"Have you not observed the gardens near Hagrid's hut?" Severus asked.

"Well I've seen the gardens, but I don't understand. You see, I've always had to maintain the gardens at my Uncle Vernon's house, and it takes a long time for the things I plant to grow. So will you use magic to make the plants grow faster?"

The early August air was already warm, though it was still relatively early in the day. The lawn was lush and had not a single unsightly weed breaking its continuity of the purest green. The trees, which were nicely distributed throughout the lot, were tall and each provided excellent shading. It seemed odd, however, that not a single fallen leaf could be seen beneath any of those trees, and Harry decided that Rastus must have either charmed the trees not to drop leaves, or else he had cleared them himself earlier that morning.

The gentle stream, which traversed the properly, was very clear and provided the soothing background sounds that lulled Harry to sleep each night. Upon closer observation, Harry noticed that large grey boulders were strategically placed around the deepest portion of the stream, forming a swimming area which looked very inviting. Harry was greatly tempted to ask Severus if they might swim in it sometime.

"Are you familiar with the time turner?" Severus asked, choosing an area in the gardens that was still shaded by a giant oak tree. He leaned the tools against the woody trunk and crouched on the grass. He then pulled up a few tufts of grass, then scooped a sample of the soil into a phial, which reacted slightly to the clear liquid inside. "Time turners have been adapted for use in the garden. It is invaluable for when you must have herbs or vegetables in a relatively short amount of time."

Rastus waved his arms, and set the garden tools to work. Like a conductor of a large scale orchestra, Rastus continued to wave his arms, causing ghostly garden tools appear alongside the real ones, and set about their task preparing the ground. The house elf then took his position on a shovel and began digging so rapidly, that Harry predicted he would complete two trenches in the time it would take both Severus and Harry to complete only a quarter of a single trench.

After several minutes, Severus had to stop and watch Harry work. In awe. He would never have envisioned Harry to be so proficient at a seemingly mundane task like gardening. Surely the boy who lived would have found gardening too boring, but no... Harry worked the trowel and rake with about the same precision that Severus wielded lab equipment.

No doubt the proficiency came from many hours of hard labour in his relative's garden. Compared to his incarceration in a tiny cupboard, the hard work, no...slave labour, must have seemed paradise.

In less than two hours, long before the sun had risen high enough to cast its rays fully over the oak tree's highest branches and onto the garden, the herbs and vegetables were all planted neatly in the freshly tilled ground. "You'll have to step away from the garden now." Severus warned. "The levels of magic here will be considerable." After Severus and Rastus poured many vials of potions on the beds, and had irrigated the ground with water from the stream, they pushed what appeared to be hourglasses on little posts into the ground.

"Are those the garden timeturners?" Harry asked, thinking the hourglasses looked like enormous versions of the hourglass he had seen on a chain around Hermione's neck in their third year at Hogwarts.

"Yes Young Snape, these be garden timeturners." The house elf tossed his light brown curls back as he spoke. "When they are all set up we will give them two turns."

"How much time is each turn worth?"

"Roughly seventy-two hours." Severus replied, setting the last turner in the soil and stepping back. When Severus, Harry and Rastus were clear of the beds, Severus drew his wand and turned all the hourglasses two turns simultaneously. A substance resembling fog curled from each of the hourglasses and rose up to meet the 'fog' from the other timeturners, finally coalescing into an almost clear dome over the garden."In three hours, we'll return to the garden to remove the weeds."

"Father, may I stay here for a while?" Harry clambered onto a low branch of the oak tree near the garden. "I want to watch the plants grow. I've never seen a garden with timeturners in it before."

"That is permissible." Severus replied. "I will be in the lab on the second level brewing potions. Stay where I can see you from that window."

"Okay..." Harry did not need to be told to stay put, for he was fascinated by the timeturners at work. He wondered why they hadn't been employed on the mandrakes during their second year at Hogwarts, when the basilisk had petrified Hermione along with other people.

"It is most unfortunate that garden timeturners cannot be used on all types of plants." Severus stated seemingly out of the blue. "A considerable number Magical plants cannot develop their most powerful properties without the normal passage of time. Mandrakes being among them."

Harry smiled to himself. Severus had somehow heard his thoughts once more.

Exhausted from both their work and the rapidly increasing heat, Severus and Rastus walked under the tree and leaned against the sturdy trunk.

Rastus popped out and reappeared a few minutes later with three tall glasses of chilled pumpkin juice.

"Come join me in the tree, both of you!" Harry called, leaning against the trunk. "You can see so much better from up from here."

"I've not climbed that tree since I was a child..." Severus started to scoff but found that the suggestion had its appeal. He climbed with surprising ease and was soon seated on another branch at roughly the same level with Harry. Rastus popped up onto an adjacent branch and served Severus and Harry their drinks. Harry grinned and took a long drink of his pumpkin juice.

"Father, how old do you think this tree is?"

"Several hundred years," Severus answered, finishing his glass of pumpkin juice, only to have a full glass appear in its place. Severus nodded to the part elf, who was reclining on his own branch. "Thank you, Rastus. Harry, when your grandparents purchased Snape Manor, they each brought trees from near their family homes. This Oak is from the Rogue's property."

"Grandmother's family?" Harry asked. "Where are they now? Can we-"

"All dead, and their properties decimated some time just before the height of the Dark Lord's fist reign. Their tolerance and even acceptance of muggles made them targets of those who wanted to keep wizard blood pure."

"So we're all that that is left of the Rogue family?" Harry leaned against the branch and sighed. He was angry when he had learned that the Rogues had disowned his grandmother just for being pregnant out of wedlock. It was ironic that her being disowned was what had kept her alive...if one can consider being a battered spouse, and later being in a spell damaged state, alive.

"You wish to visit your grandmother?" Severus asked, taking on a decidedly sorrowful cast.

"Can we father? Please?" Harry climbed over to Severus' branch. "I know she can't talk or anything, but I still want to visit her."

"Of course." Severus leaned against the great trunk and turned away. "But not until next week."

"Because some one from the ministry or from The Death Eaters might see us because they're all around town now? And they might recognize us and if they are bad people they'll make trouble?"

"There is that," Severus stopped to sip some of his pumpkin juice. "But it would also be better if we waited until your body can tolerate magic once more."

"HUH?"

"It cannot be widely known that I have a son." Severus replied. "Since you've enjoyed posing as me before, you should not mind going into the hospital as me."

Harry blinked in surprise.

"I've calculated that the best time to accomplish this would be when the security department at St. Mungos does their guard changes." Severus went on. "Just before, you can use one of the polyjuice potions and go in as me without alerting security. The guards are familiar with me, for I do visit my mother from time to time."

"So you can't come with me to visit grandmother then?"

"I did not say that. That is why we go around the time of the guard changeover. You'll go in just as the previous shift is completing their duties, and shortly after the second group takes their positions, I will walk in. That way members of either group will only see one Severus Snape."

"Brilliant, father!" Harry clapped his hands. "But...uh...what if some one comes in to check on grandmother and sees two of us?"

"They will not see two of us." Severus stated calmly, as though he were stating something as sure as the neap tide coming during half moons.

"You still are in possession of the invisibility cloak are you not?"

"Uh huh?"

"We will take potions to enhance our hearing once we arrive in your grandmother's room. We will hear if anyone is coming towards the room and will have time enough for one of us to hide beneath the cloak."

"You sound like you've been planning this for a while now. When did you start thinking on it?" Harry questioned.

"Ever since that night I dreamed my angel son had came back to life while I was in the infirmary. I dreamed my son had paid me a visit in my labs and said he would never leave again. Even though I was only dreaming, I began to draw plans in my mind as to how we would go about our lives while keeping our status as father and son secret." Severus replied.

"You know," Harry speculated. "I think it wasn't a dream at all." Although Harry's brain simplified everything, he described the 'dream' he had had while in the hospital and how he, thinking he was only dreaming, approached his dour potion's master and boldly called him father and lavished all the affections on him that he would never have done while awake.

"So our spiritual bond..." Severus trailed off.

"Yes father, I think so." Severus found that he did not want to return to his potions lab just yet. The air temperature was fairly hot and the inside of the house would surely be much hotter. Uncomfortably so, and without the respite the occasional breezes outside provided.

True, Severus could move some of the equipment into the much cooler basements of Snape Manor, but the heat, along with the mere presence of Harry, just made him want to remain in the cooler branches of the shady oak tree. And so he tarried on.

Within a half an hour, minute movements could be seen in the rows of soil.

As though watching a living time lapse photography movie, the tiny green sprouts pushed their way through the soil shortly thereafter. "WOW! This is amazing!" Harry exclaimed, "now whenever some one says that something is 'as boring as watching grass or other plants grow,' I'm not going to hear it the same way!"

"Why would anyone without access to a garden timeturner want to watch the plants grow?" Severus asked. Harry explained, in true young Harry fashion exactly what was meant by 'watching grass grow' and why people would do it, which meant that he answered the question in such a roundabout way that he covered seemingly unrelated topics from lawn fertilizers to dune buggies to Austria's lack of seaports to Mx missiles to Vienna Sausage to toilet plungers to Alan Rickman and how he played better villains in the movies than most real life crooks did and The Mario Brothers. Needless to say, Severus was somewhat confused but glad he had not asked a more complicated question. If he had, Harry would still be in the process of answering two hours thereafter... and even then, he might be only halfway done.

One thing did intrigue Severus greatly though. "Harry, tell me more about these... what did you call them... tree houses? Am I to understand that muggles sometimes live in trees? Like birds?"

* * *

"Dr. Pain?" Draco exclaimed. He could barely recognize the young physician who entered his room. Rather than his usual white muggle doctor uniform, the physician was dressed in jeans and a jacket which looked as though it were made from the same fabric as the jeans. To completely render him unrecognizable, the doctor's normally neat hair was spiked and coloured yellow, blue, red, pink, green and purple. Draco wanted to tell Dr. Pain that he bore a resemblance to a brightly coloured broom, but he did not dare insult the muggle doctor, that could be dangerous and/or foolish. Especially since Draco's very life depended on the care of these muggle doctors.

"Yes, it is I." Dr. Pain nodded. "But my doctor said that I'm not well enough to return to work until the week after next. So I'm just visiting you right now."

"Thanks for visiting," Draco said, feeling somewhat guilty that he had been the cause of the doctor's injuries. "Are you still sore?"

"I should be asking you that!" Dr. Payne chuckled. "No, it's only a bit uncomfortable to breathe deeply, and I tend to tire quickly, but I'm fine. I just wish I understood how to got hurt like this."

"You don't remember?"

"No, I don't remember much of anything from that day." Dr. Payne sighed. "The last thing I recall, I was giving you an injection. My next conscious memory is of waking up a few days later and feeling quite ill. I must have been working too hard."

"Yes you M-doctors really do work hard." Draco commented, thinking to himself that it was likely the ministry of magic was working too hard. Dr. Payne, and no doubt other members of the muggle medical staff, must have been obliviated.

"Are you still in discomfort?" Dr. Payne asked.

"Yes, but I feel much better than when I first got here."

"Terrible that you and your family got in the middle of those hooligans!" Dr. Payne sighed. "They ought to punish hooligans more harshly for making sporting events so dangerous."

"I agree." Draco nodded, wondering how muggle law enforcers punished their criminals. "Dr. Payne, when do you think I'll be able to walk on my own again?"

Dr. Payne stood up and quickly examined Draco. "Can you walk around without much pain now?"

"Not very far." Draco admitted. "I can maybe walk to the end of the corridor, but that's all."

"You'll probably feel better by next week." Dr. Payne said, sitting again.

"How soon until I will be able to run?"

"I would recommend that you don't even try to run until your bones knit a bit more. You could injure yourself further."

Draco sighed, concluding that stealth would be his best weapon out of the hospital since speed seemed out of the question. Perhaps if he could alter his hair...Draco wondered about Dr. Pain's hair. Could Dr. Pain be a metamorphmagus whilst still being a muggle? He rephrased his next question several times in his mind before asking it: "Dr. Pain, how did you make your hair like that?"

"Like what? How I set it up?"

"No, colourful, how did you turn your hair so many different colours?"

"You like it?" Dr. Payne grinned.

Draco nodded.

"It's a new hair dye. It's simple really, you don't even have to bleach your hair beforehand to use it, because the dye itself contains a bleach which lightens your hair at the same time it colours it. I just painted it on my hair in stripes. The colour is semipermanent and lasts for around fourteen shampoos. So my hair should be back to normal before I return to work."

Draco didn't fully understand everything Dr. Payne said, but he nodded anyway. "So if I got some dye like that, can it make my hair black?"

"Hmm, if you used the black hair dye, quite possibly. There is a chance it might make your hair only go brownish though,as it's so pale." Dr. Payne replied. "

"Brownish sounds interesting, where can I get some dye again?"

"Anywhere you can purchase toiletries, but as a matter of a fact," Dr Payne went on, "I have a tube of Blue-black hair dye leftover. Do you want it?"

"If you don't need it sure! I'd love to try some mu- hair dye." Draco drawled, thinking it would be all too easy to sneak out of the hospital in a disguise. "But why did you buy the dye if you didn't use it?"

"Simple," the young physician started, "because I ran out of hair to use it on. I dyed the other chunks of hair too large and had nowhere to apply the blue-black dye. But you can have it, it should be cover all of your hair...er...but don't use it until you get home okay?"

"Why not?"

"Because your parents might be angry if you dyed your hair without their permission to do so." Dr. Payne replied. "Especially you, with such light blonde hair, your parents would probably think you were somebody other than their son if you came home from the hospital with brownish or black hair.

"Oh Okay." Draco said, feeling sad knowing that his parents were not in Malfoy Manor at the moment. "You're right."

"Good to see you again, Draco." Dr. Payne said as he stood to leave. "I'll bring the dye for you next time I visit. Would you like anything else?"

Draco shook his head, and wondered how he would escape with no muggle street clothes. How he wished he had a jacket like Dr. Payne's. True to the house of Slytherin, Draco concocted a plan. "I used to have a jacket very much like yours, Dr. Payne, but those hooligans at the football pitch ripped it off me when they..." Draco quickly hid his face in the crook of his arm.

"You poor child!" The doctor muttered, pushing the box of tissues toward the youth. "Well, I have another jacket like this one at home..."

"Oh no, I couldn't ask you to..." Draco attempted to sound as pitiful as humanly possible.

"It's quite all right, I outgrew that jacket whilst I was studying medicine. It's still in rather good condition, I'll bring it for your too next time if you like?"

* * *

A sense of foreboding grew inexorably with each passing day for the father and son. Although Harry had initially been anxious to return to his former teenaged self, and he was still looking forward to being sixteen once more, he also found that he was dreading the change as well. In less than four days, the Interventio Interferous potion would wear off completely, allowing Harry to safely take the reaging potion.

Harry's heart sank. When Harry was first de-aged, he had noticed a marked change in his father's temperament. Whereas Severus would have become angry with very little provocation, and would not hesitate to reprimand Harry for the smallest infraction when Harry had been a teen, he seemed to not be able to do the same with child Harry. Harry knew he had broken more rules as a child than he ever would have had he been a sixteen year old. He even talked back to and disobeyed his father more than once, and received little more than a lecture on why what he had done was wrong as a 'punishment.'

He also enjoyed being cared for, and truly loved, for the first time in his memory. Harry closed his eyes, as Severus combed his wet, still- extended hair. Even though Harry's hands were sufficiently healed, Severus still gave him baths each day and helped him dress. Harry allowed this willingly, in fact, he savoured it. Aunt Petunia or Uncle Vernon only brushed his hair to keep it from matting, and only bathed him when they could no longer stand his smell.

The Dursleys dressed him only in worn, cast off clothing from Dudley, but Severus bought him clothing of his very own. New clothes of the finest variety. His soft, red satin unitard pyjamas, which had brightly coloured cartoon puppets printed on it, felt good against his skin, even though he no longer had bruises and scrapes which would have necessitated his wearing of such non-irritating material.

Would Severus still tolerate as much from Harry when he was a teen again? Would Severus still hug him? Spend as much time with him? Would they still have those long father-son talks which Harry enjoyed immensely? Would they share meals as often? Children were easier to love than teens weren't they? Would Harry be able to get used to being only admired as a hero of the wizarding world, but nothing more? Would Harry have to adjust to being an unwanted child again? Would he be able to thrive without the comfort of knowing he was loved? He lived this way before, but could he do it again? Would Severus still love him as much?

Harry started to cry, causing Severus to drop the wooden comb mid-stroke. "Harry, if my combing your hair was hurting, you should have told me sooner."

Severus rubbed Harry's scalp gently in the area he thought the hair had been pulled too hard. He did not know the true reason Harry was crying this time, for Severus's mind had been preoccupied with fears not even he fully understood. He knew that Harry would have to be a sixteen year old once again in the very near future, but why did Severus so dread that day? Even though he had thought that caring for Harry would be a burden initially, and he still made more than his share of mistakes even now, Severus found that he didn't mind attending to the needs of his little green eyed angel. He actually liked taking care of his son enough to not relegate his duties as a caregiver to his house elf, as many wizarding families who owned house elves would often do.

Both father and son fell asleep thinking more on these things that night.

* * *

"It is wonderful to see you getting on so." the still de-aged Albus Dumbledore said upon his arrival at the Snape Manor the next morning. He did not fail to notice how closely Harry stood beside his father, and how Severus did not recoil because of it. Even when Albus pulled his potion master into a hug, although he did not return the embrace, Severus did not fidget or appear as though his blood had congealed.

"You are so kind to invite us over, Professor Snape." YiChung Chang, who was also a child, said as be bowed reverently to Severus and handed him a copy of the Daily Prophet.

"No doubt you two were giving your families waking nightmares." Severus ventured, his black robes billowing somewhat less than Albus remembered. "They probably could do with the respite."

Albus and YiChung exchanged knowing glances.

"Is Headmaster Dumbledore and Professor Chang be wanting to have brunch?" Rastus popped next to the small group and asked eagerly.

"We would greatly appreciate that." Albus replied, noting that the house elf smelled heavily of sweet pastries. The elf had anticipated their visit and had prepared the food accordingly. Albus and YiChung loved sugary foods.

* * *

"So there have been no further reports of attacks of late?" Severus asked, tugging weeds from the garden by the handful.

"No Severus," the miniature headmaster replied. He knelt to examine a sprig of basil, the ends of his long auburn hair brushing the earth. "With the exception of a few reports of violence in the muggle world, all is quiet. It would appear that Harry's intervention has crippled Voldemort and indirectly, his forces at least for the time being."

"Or perhaps the dark forces are merely biding their time." Severus murmured, picking a bright red tomato and placing it with the other vegetables and herbs in the basket.

Rastus, YiChung, Harry and Albus helped Severus in the garden for a while longer. When the work was done, Severus climbed back onto the branch in the giant oak tree and watched Albus, Harry, Rastus and YiChung as they played on the lawn.

"Does good wizards be wanting to play with this?" Rastus popped out and reappeared with a quaffle. At Severus's and Harry's worried looks, Rastus added: "Rastus has removed the charms from it, it is just a ball now."

Harry and Rastus challenged Albus and YiChung to a game of football, and beat the two older wizards quite easily.

"Although my body is young again," Albus said when Harry kicked the ball through the goal. "I have not played football in many years, my body lacks the quick reflexes and coordination that your body still has."

When it became apparent that the team of YiChung and Albus would never win at football without cheating or by using magic, the four engaged in a spirited game of catch...which quickly turned into something resembling muggle rugby. Severus watched from his breezy 'perch' in the tree, realizing that Harry must have been very lonely without other children to play with. In both his real childhood, and the one brought on by the deaging potion, Poor Harry had had no other children to play with.

"I've got it!" Albus shouted running to catch the ball as it bounced dangerously close to the edge of the stream.

"Watch out, Albus!!" YiChung shouted.

But it was too late. Little Albus had jumped into the air to make the catch, but he landed on a slippery rock at the water's edge and fell in.

Seeing his mentor and pseudo father vanish beneath the water's surface, Severus jumped out of the tree and sprinted toward the stream. "HEADMASTER! HEADMASTER!"

But Albus did not resurface straightaway. He had landed in the deepest part of the swimming area and had quickly sunk to the bottom.

"ALBUS!" YiChung shouted, quickly removing his robes to dive in after his lifelong friend.

"No," Severus gently nudged YiChung away from the edge stream. "I will go."

Severus quickly stripped to his underwear and dove into the stream. But just as he begun searching in the depths for Albus Dumbledore, the boy Albus resurfaced with the quaffle in his small hands. "I FOUND IT!" he shouted to the other boys and tossed the ball to Rastus.

"GREAT MERLIN, Albus!" an exasperated Severus shouted at the child version of his mentor. "I did not know you could swim! Why did you not tell me?"

"Because Severus my boy, you never asked." the boy Albus replied, his long auburn hair fanning out behind him.

"Aren't you coming out of the water?" Harry asked, finding it strange that his father was not already making his way back towards the edge.

"I have not been in this stream for many years. Now that I'm in once more, I may as well remain for a while." Severus executed a backstroke. The cool water felt extremely good against his body, which ached slightly from the gardening they had done lately.

Albus did not make to leave the water either. Before long, Harry, YiChung and Rastus were also in the stream, playing a game that resembled water polo not a great distance away from Severus, who was swimming languidly in the cool water. Normally, the sound of children playing loudly annoyed the potion master, but today, their voices were no more annoying than the sound of the water hitting the rocks downstream. Just weeks ago, Severus never would have imagined feeling so at peace. So renewed. Certainly not at Snape Manor. But he did. Every moment he spent in the stream was like a cleansing, the cool water as soothing as a healing balm. Even when he turned in the direction of the first Snape Manor, he no longer felt fear or sadness or shame, but loss. A loss greatly softened by Harry's presence. And his boundless love.

Harry turned toward the first Snape Manor after nearly twenty minutes of intense gameplay, as though something there summoned or demanded his absolute attention.

Severus feigned a pass to Albus, but flung the ball at Harry. The boy's attention still on a window in Snape Manor one, the ball bounced off his head, almost unnoticed.

"We've played enough for today," Severus said brusquely, and began shuffling the others from the water.

"But father, we were winning!"

"We're done!" Severus yelled louder than he intended.

Still mindful the potion master, even in his deaged state, Albus placed a small hand on Severus's shoulder. "What is wrong, my boy? You seem most apprehensive?"

"Look at yourselves!" Severus motioned to the lot of them. "You're shivering! No more swimming today!"

"But father, I thought I saw some one or something move in the window..."

"YOU WILL GO BACK INTO THE HOUSE THIS INSTANT, HARRY!"

Severus and Rastus helped each of them out of the stream and into a large washroom situated near the west end of the house. En route, Harry's gaze vacillated between a high window in the first Snape Manor, and his father's ashen face. He knew that Severus hadn't yelled at him out of anger, but fear? What had frightened Severus so?

"Father, why are so scared? What gave you such a fright?"

Severus averted his head and began filling the large bath. Knowing that no answer was forthcoming, and noting the uncomfortable silence, Harry turned to the de-aged Albus and YiChung. "Oh..uh... since your clothes are all wet, you can borrow some of mine."

In nearly perfect unison, Albus and YiChung exhaled the breath they held, and thanked Harry. The tension wafted through the air like a fog on a day the warmth of the sun could not penetrate. Albus, YiChung and Harry started removing their wet clothing. Severus turned away, removed his undercrackers and threw them into the bin, seemingly somewhat oblivious to the task at hand.

* * *

"Where are you going?" Harry asked Rastus when he turned to leave.

"Rastus is going to wash off, young Snape sir."

"You can do it as well here as wherever you were going to wash off." Harry said, leading the part elf back to the bath that YiChung and Albus were already splashing about in. "You're part of my family remember."

"Yes sir." the part elf nodded, and began to undress.

Harry could not help but stare. With the exception of Rastus's pointed ears, somewhat larger than normal eyes and his being only the size of a human eleven year old, the part elf looked like a human. Fully unclothed, even more so, If Rastus were just a little taller and covered his ears, he would look just like an adult human male.

"Young sir?" the elf inquired, looking nervous. "Is there something wrong?"

"Oh sorry, I didn't mean to stare. It's just that you look so...you look so...HUMAN!"

"He is only one eighth elf," Severus replied, sitting on the edge of the bath and carving soap creatures for Albus, YiChung, Harry and even Rastus to play with.

"With a little ingenuity, humans and elves are reproductively compatible. So their bodies are not very significantly different from ours."

* * *

When Severus rose to wash off under a nearby showerhead, he heard Harry snickering behind him. When he turned around, all he saw was Harry, Rastus, YiChung and Albus playing with the soap toys. He returned his attention to showering once more, and this time he heard not only Harry, but young Albus snickering as well. He quickly turned around once more and saw the boys still playing with the soap toys. When he stepped under the shower spray, he heard all the boys, and the house elf giggling.

"I beg your pardon, but are you laughing at my arse?" Severus said in exasperation.

YiChung, Rastus and Harry broke into full giggles, and Albus answered: "Yes Severus, as a matter of a fact we are."

"And why are you all laughing at my arse?" Severus frowned. "Especially you, Harry. Surely my backside has not changed significantly since you last saw it."

"You're right father." Harry fell backwards from giggling so hard. "Your bum really hasn't changed at all."

When the boys continued with their infernal laughter, Severus stomped over to a full length mirror near the dressing area of the room to see exactly what was so funny about his backside. Indeed his arse was the same sallow arse he had had for years...then he realized what had changed. The rest of him! Because he had spent a good part of the day swimming in only his underwear whilst the sun shone upon the stream, the rest of his body was no longer sallow but a pale ivory beige now.

"You've got a snowcap bum!" Harry tittered.

"Really." Severus said, stomping back to the showers. "Look at your own arses then! Except for Albus, who went swimming whilst fully clothed, the rest of you have got 'snowcap bums' as well."

That was a mistake, because now the infantile boys were laughing even louder at each other.

"Herrherr herr!" Severus laughed sarcastically in return.

Hearing the grouchy potions master laughing, even a fake laugh, was just too much. The boys could scarcely keep their heads above water as they fell back into the bath, unable to suppress their roars of laughter.

End Part Thirty-One


	32. The Threshold of Time

**Remembrance and Renewal** by **Avatar Arkmage** and **Nigel Tatsuya**  
Chapter Thirty-Two: **Threshold of Time**

"I believe I should be returning to Hogwarts now." the de-aged headmaster stated. "Being a child, while delightful, is fatiguing. I fear I must have a nap before I collapse where I stand."

"I think I'll have to go home as well, even though it is still early in the day." YiChung concurred, closing his chestnut brown eyes as Rastus set about arranging his damp long hair into an elaborate topknot. "Thank you for your hospitality Severus, Harry and Rastus. I think Albus and I have learned our lessons, and will leave youth to the young, for I am quite sleepy as well."

"Neither of you are in suitable condition to travel anywhere." Severus declared, patting Harry on the back of the head as the youth leaned against Severus' hip. "I advise you to rest here at Snape Manor, there is ample space. And surely you are not expected back at your homes until later this evening. Besides, I believe your families would welcome the respite from your mischief."

Rastus's amber eyes brightened at that. He often did chores and other mundane tasks within Snape Manor and around the grounds twice or thrice for lack of humans to serve. Now he had three children and kind Master Severus to serve, which filled the elf's heart with unbridled joy.

"Hmph. You're too tired to even dress yourselves adequately." Severus commented to Harry, YiChung and Albus, who looked as though they would fall off of the bench and sleep right on the floor in the re-robing area. All the boys were only wearing their bath towels. Only Harry had his wrapped around his body.

"Here is some of Master Harry's pyjamas." Rastus reappeared in front of the boys holding a purple, a green and a red hooded unitard in his small arms.

Albus accepted the purple unitard and proceeded to put it on, once Rastus resized it to accommodate his taller stature. "Curious name this muggle company has."

"Indeed." YiChung said, slipping into the tight, green unitard, which Severus lengthened the arms and pantlegs of to fit Cho's de-aged grandsire. "Teletubbies' sounds to be a name for a company you might found, Albus."

Albus adjusted his hood, the semi-rigid inverted triangle on his head wobbling with the fine movements of his head."Now after the great war, I shall have to decide on another name to call any corporation I may decide to start."

"I wonder what these funny things on our hoods are supposed to be?" Harry said, happy that his red unitard fit him perfectly. "Father, do you know?"

Severus looked at the three boys, wondering why the shape of the funny things on their hoods' were different. Albus had an inverted triangle, Harry had a circle and YiChung just had a what appeared to be a pole on his hood. "I do not know, I did not ask the clerk, I just purchased everything in and around your size in the store."

"Perhaps they are like Native American Wizard dream catchers? Except you can wear these on your heads." YiChung speculated. "Maybe they channel good dreams into our minds?"

"I guess that must be it. I hope we all have good dreams then." Harry yawned, leading YiChung and Albus out of the bath. "Are you going to join us, father? You can spell this yellow telletubbie pyjama to fit you."

"No, as I am no longer a growing wizard, I'll not be requiring nap." Severus responded, thinking that he would never wear that ridiculous yellow unitard with that odd spiral thing on the hood, even if he were sleepy. He'd much sooner sleep completely naked. "I will be in the library in the south wing, should you need me."

* * *

Severus spent the next few hours preparing lesson plans for the upcoming school session. This particular summer seemed to have passed more quickly than most, and despite the time spent convalescing, had been the most enjoyable time Severus could ever remember. Strangely though, being back at Snape Manor, and having his little green eyed angel back in his life, Severus felt as though the summer would last forever. Yet, their time together had been relatively brief. It was like a cool breeze though Severus's hair as he stood amid the burning brimstone which he had come to know as his lot in life. Would he learn to live with Harry once the boy returned to being his former teenaged self? That infernal, rule-breaking copy of James Potter... that was also his son.

A fluttering of wings just outside the open window drew Severus's attention away from his musings and the parchments on his desk. He looked up in time to see a snowy white owl disappearing in the space just above the attic.

Severus wondered if the snowy white owl was Harry's. It looked like his owl, near enough. The wards around the grounds of Snape Manor were set to permit the passage of only undomesticated owls, other animals and insects, and the pets of either Severus or Harry.

"Hi, father." Harry appeared in the doorway. He had just awakened from his nap, and was still rubbing his eyes.

"Harry, your owl, it is a snowy owl is it not?" Severus asked, scooting his chair back from the desk to permit Harry more room to manoeuver as the child made a beeline for his lap.

"Uh huh?" Harry replied, resting his head on Severus's chest. "Hedwig is a snowy owl. But she's at the owlry at Hogwarts right now." Harry read Severus's expression. "Oh no! Did something happen to her?"

"I don't know." Severus lifted Harry into his arms and made his way to the attic, taking two steps on the staircase at a time. "Wait here." He then put Harry on the floor and climbed out of one of the larger gothic styled windows.

Cautiously, Severus inched closer to the space he had seen the snowy white owl,and was met by a fierce batting of wings.

"Phaugh!" Severus spat out a mouthful of white feathers. The snowy white owl pursued Severus relentlessly as he tried to scramble along the roof and back through the window. Even once he was back inside, the owl continued to claw and bat its wings at him, as though its goal were to practice the fine art of scarification, and it was working on a particularly intricate design.

"Don't hurt my father!" Harry shouted at the owl he could tell was not Hedwig.

Although Severus was on the floor and trying to crawl away, the owl continued to attack him. Harry finally shooed it away by taking a poker from the fire and thrusting it dangerously close to Severus's face. In an effort to keep the owl from attacking once more, Harry swung the poker at it threateningly. During the fourth swing, Harry accidentally struck the owl on the head, causing the avian to fall twitching to the floor.

"Oh no! Is it dead?" Harry asked, horrified at what he witnessed, but more so at what he had done.

"No! I'm still very much alive!" Severus retorted, looking as though he were about to ask Rastus to make them Owl Stew for dinner that night.

"Why was the owl so mad at you?" Harry asked.

"I do not believe it was angry at me." Severus speculated, examining the avian's head. "It was verylikely to be protecting something."

"Protecting something?" Harry pondered. "Or...someone...special to it...maybe it's protecting...!"

While Severus was still wiping blood from his temple, Harry cautiously climbed out the window and onto the roof. "Hedwig!" he called. "Hedwig!"

"Harry! Come back at once!" Severus shouted, scrambling after his son.

A second owl, still concealed within the small space, hooted back at Harry. A sound Harry recognized. "Father! It's Hedwig! She's here!"

Severus braced himself behind Harry, that Harry would not fall from the roof in the event the child lost his balance. "The other snowy white must have been protecting her then. It must be your owl's mate."

Father and son slowly moved toward the space, as Harry continued crooning to his beloved pet.

"Ohh!" Harry gasped in delight. In the space, seated upon a small tuft of twigs and dried plant matter was Harry's snowy white owl. He eagerly reached in to stroke his owl's head, only to be horrified when Hedwig nearly bit him. "Oh Hedwig! Why did you do that? Are you angry with me?"

"As if she could answer you." Severus gibed, but changed his tone fast when he saw the hurt look on Harry's face. "Harry, she is not angry at you... hang on." Despite Hedwig treating Severus's hand as her personal chew-toy, he gingerly reached into the narrow space and grasped the avian around her middle and lifted her slightly, revealing a small clutch of eggs beneath. "Just as I anticipated..."

Harry was not far behind. "Hedwig is going to be a mum?"

Severus decided to leave the mother owl to her duties. "It would appear so."

"Oh Hedwig!" Harry grinned, looking his pet in her yellow eyes. "I'm so proud of you!...Er but father...what do we do now? I think...I think I killed Hedwig's uh... uh... her husband owl?"

"The term is mate." Severus sighed, climbing back into the attic window and assiting Harry in after him. "As with most snowy owls, the male owl has been feeding your owl as she cares for the eggs."

"How will Hedwig eat now if her mate is dead?" Harry fretted. "She won't leave her eggs to go hunting will she?"

"No, that is why owls form pair bonds. One hunts while the other incubates the young." Severus explained. "Not to worry, we can easily acquire rodents for her."

"So that owl was the father of Hedwig's babies..." Harry began to sniffle... "He died whilst protecting his owl children!"

"No Harry, I do not believe you've killed him," said Severus, lifting the unconscious animal away before Harry could peruse it more closely. "I will see what I can do." Severus scuttled to one of his labs, slammed the door behind him and spelled it closed to keep Harry from entering. Saving this feral owl was the last thing he truly wanted to do, especially since the scratches and bites on his face needed tending at the moment.

But he was in no great hurry to see Harry cry again.

* * *

Minerva McGonagall and Cho Chang arrived at the vacant lot on the muggle street that evening to collect young Albus Dumbledore and YiChung Chang respectively. It was just after full dark, and the only illumination along the empty street were from the houses. Headmaster Dumbledore had loaned his put-outer to McGonagall as a precaution and she had made good use of it.

"I hope grandfather wasn't too much of a burden on them." Cho commented.

"I'm more concerned about the trouble young Albus..." Professor McGonagall began before freezing on the spot.

Severus Snape startled both of them by suddenly appearing through the tree and pulling both women in through the barrier before either of them knew what was happening.

"Good Heavens!" Professor McGonagall screeched. "You gave us a fright."

"My apologies," Severus retorted as he reset the wards on the portal. "We cannot afford to be complacent."

Cho bowed her head and approached her teacher. "Hello, Professor Snape. Thank you for your hospitality towards my grandfather." Cho handed the professor a box of freshly baked almond cookies and other Chinese confections. "I hope you enjoy them." She reached into one of her pockets and handed him a shrunken box. "Grandfather said to bring this for you too. I hope this will suffice."

Severus looked at the shrunken box. "This will contain all I need to assemble a house in a large tree?"

Cho nodded. "Yes, Muggle ready made kits are quite popular in Yukiguni. Muggles engineer everything from dog houses to office buildings at the factory, the machines make the kits, and then customers can then assemble their custom made creations when they get to the site."

"All without magic?" Severus asked, pulling out a piece which he deduced was one of the treehouse's walls.

"Yes, the muggles had to find methods to get by without the use of magic. Ready made buildings are one of them. The only magic about them is the magic I used to shrink the kit."

Severus tried to discreetly hand Cho several gold galleons for the treehouse kit.

"Oh no, sir!" Cho said, backing away as though Severus were handing her scorpions. "Our family owes you so much, Professor Snape. If you hadn't.."

"Miss Chang, as I have told your grandfather, and as I've told you before, you owe me nothing." Severus insisted. "I only did what anyone else would have done. Your grandfather needed help, and I gave it to him. You needed to do detention that day and you served it."

"No one could have saved grandfather's life but you." Cho said, tears threatening. "Please...the house is an experimental design the company is trying out. The firm needs testers to see if the design is a sound one...er, but don't worry though, the house is safe."

Severus kept trying to hand Cho the galleons, but the girl kept moving away, her straight black hair fanning behind her like a black comet's tail. "Really Professor, if you absolutely must give something back for it, fill out the questionnaire in the box and owl it to the company. Oh silly me, you'll have to send it via muggle post as it's a muggle company. Your feedback will help my father and the other engineers dream up more designs."

"CHO!" YiChung shouted from the porch, then ran across the lawn and jumped into Cho's arms.

Albus thought it was a good idea. "Minerva!!" Albus ran across the lawn and jumped into his deputy Headmistress's unprepared arms, sending both of them reeling to the ground.

"Well I NEVER!" McGonagall irately adjusted her glasses as she sat up.

"You are right, Minerva." Little Albus said, shaking blades of grass out of his long auburn hair. "You missed."

"Thank you for having granddad over." Cho, who was still holding her grandfather in her arms and rocking him, said to Harry.

Harry could not help but giggle at the absurdity, as well as the cuteness of the sight. He never thought he would live to see the day a grandaughter could carry her own grandfather in her arms. "No need to thank me, really. It was loads of fun having them over. I never got to play with other children much before."

"Not even when you were a real kid?" Cho leaned closer to her one time boyfriend, now adorable little friend. Harry took that as an invitation, and jumped into Cho's arms alongside YiChung.

"No." Harry replied sadly. His mood was immediately lightened by the feel of Cho staggering to keep from dropping two people quite dear to her. She swayed for a few seconds before stabilizing. "So having YiChung and Albus...uh I mean Grandpa Chang and Professor Dumbledore over was loads of fun! They really know how to play like real kids. You know, I'll bet that's why they lived longer than most people do."

"But Harry, we do not normally employ de-agers." Albus Dumbledore said as he approached with twinkling eyes.

"Well I didn't think you did, unless it was a prank." Harry said, leaning into Cho's chest. "I meant that you lived so long, because neither of you forgot how to play, enjoy sweets, laugh at things many adults wouldn't laugh at and well, you both just seem to know how to be kids."

"That is true." YiChung nodded. "I believe that we begin to die only when the child that dwells within each of us dies. When we forget how to laugh, when we say 'we are too busy to play,' when we worry more that sweets will make us fat rather than nourish our souls, when we no longer can love without having reason to do so..." Both YiChung's and Albus' eyes twinkled at Harry and then at Severus in turn, "...that is when we truly begin to die."

"I think you're right." Harry nodded, resting his head against Cho's long, glossy black hair. "I want my father to live as long as you, Grandpa Chang, and you too Headmaster Dumbledore."

Not wanting to be left out, Little Albus jumped onto Cho's back, causing the poor girl to wobble and lean at strange angles before finally righting herself. "Harry, if you show Severus the way," the de-aged headmaster of Hogwarts smiled "he will be with you for a very long time."

"Unless you three are attempting to give Miss Chang a hernia, you'd best get off her!" Severus sneered.

"How can Cho get a hernia?" Harry asked, motioning downward, causing Cho to turn almost purple with embarassment. "She doesn't have any...er...uh...you know..."

"You don't require testi-" Severus lifted Harry into his arms and coloured slightly when he noticed everyone's attention fully on him. He whispered into Harry's ear. "I shall elaborate further on this matter at a later time."

Sensing some intervention was required, Minerva McGonagall changed the topic. "So what did you boys do today?"

Albus answered, explaining things as he normally did whilst a child. "First we worked in the garden, which has timeturners in it, but we stayed out of the gardens while they were on, so that we wouldn't grow too soon. That would be too dangerous anyway. And then we played football with Rastus, a most delightful house elf who was so good that YiChung and I never made a goal..."

"Come," Severus suddenly shouted urgently when he noticed Harry and their guests looking in the direction of Snape Manor One. There was movement in one of the windows of the first Snape Manor. "Dinner has been prepared for us all. Let us dine before it grows cold."

* * *

After the guests departed, Severus ventured back outside while Harry was busy feeding Hedwig's mate some owl treats dissolved in a healing broth. "I'm real glad I didn't kill you, little owl." The owl made no response but to gulp more broth from the syringe hungrily. "I think Hedwig's babies will really need their father in their lives."

The owl hooted as if in understanding.

"Just like I need my own father." Harry sighed.

* * *

Having the advantage of magic at his disposal, Severus did not restore the treehouse kit to it's former size before assembling it. Instead, he assembled nearly the whole structure in his hands as though it were just a doll house. Once completed, he levitated the dwelling up onto the branches of the great oak tree. Once there, he spelled it back to its intended size and added the supporting brackets and clamps to secure the structure firmly to the tree.

After completing his chores in the kitchen, Rastus joined Severus outside and helped him add supporting stilts beneath the treehouse and finally the ladders leading from the ground.

"Rastus thinks it is a beautiful house." The elf said.

"So it is." Severus replied. Even though it was made largely of firm muggle plastic, the house certainly had its appeal. The exterior was made to look like an old fashioned rustic cabin, and the interior was surprisingly spacious. There was room enough to accommodate several people, with room to spare for some basic furniture .

Harry would be so surprised to see his very own tree house! What's more, Severus wanted surprise Harry.

* * *

"Thank you so much, father!" Harry said, snuggling between Severus and Rastus on the mattress they had brought from Snape Manor into the treehouse. "I've never slept in a real treehouse before. I've never even been in a real treehouse before."

Neither had Severus. The glow of the moonlight filtering in through the treehouse windows, the rustle of the leaves being stirred by the breeze, the sound of the stream coursing outside, the smell of the growing plants, and the almost tangible feel of the sap rising within the tree's living branches all made for a soothing experience to which almost nothing could compare. Father, son and house-elf were all lulled to sleep quickly in their newly constructed treehouse.

* * *

"Father?" Harry whispered late one morning, wondering why Severus, who rarely slept in, was still in bed. He had seemed to be ill the night before, and Severus speculated that sleeping out in the treehouse for the past few nights may not have been very wise. Summer, notwithstanding, had its cooler nights, and Severus, Harry and Rastus would find themselves huddled together for warmth by the early morning.

The chill had likely lowered his body's resistence, and an opportunistic virus struck unhindered.

Severus had retired in a bed within Snape Manor II the night before, and there he remained still, looking deathly pale.

"FATHER!"

"..." Severus whispered, his voice frightfully weak.

"What's wrong?" worried, Harry put his hand on his father's forehead. "You...your head is so hot! Your colour is bad as well... You must be really sick!"

Severus opened his mouth to speak, but only a faint rasping could be heard.

"Aww," Harry ran to the water closet and returned with a damp washcloth which he placed on his Severus's head. "Do you think you can make a potion to make yourself better?"

Severus shook his head. He could hardly move. He had not felt this bad since he became ill with a particularly bad muggle communicable disease many years ago. His throat burned, and his head felt as though it were burning from the inside; curious because his body quivered with chills. His muscles and joints ached and he felt too weak to leave the bed.

This was to be Harry's final day under the influence of the Interventio Interferous potion. Severus had wanted to take Harry into London one last time before he brewed Harry the potion which would re-age him back to his sixteen year old self. He had certainly not intended to spend their last day together as father and young son this way.

"Is Master Severus be wanting to eat?" Rastus entered the room bearing a bowl of hot broth. Although Severus shook his head, Rastus insisted that he at least partake of a small measure of the soup. Severus wearily sat up and took two spoonfuls before gagging and vomiting all over the cotton sheets.

Rastus quickly cleaned the mess and changed the sheets on the bed. Harry got a clean washcloth and small basin and began cleaning his father's burning skin. Severus recoiled at the contact. He was not used to being so lovingly cared for, but he was virtually powerless to stop Harry. Even if he could argue, Harry would have it no other way.

Despite Harry's ministrations, Severus's condition steadily worsened. Even the healing potions Harry had found in the labs, and had poured down Severus's throat, did nothing to make him feel any better. By early afternoon, his fever was so high that Severus was delirious and unresponsive. A few times, Severus screamed at assailants only he could see, at others he begged the assailants of his fever dreams to stop hurting him for he could not endure any more of whatever they were doing.

Harry wept when he heard Severus calling for his mother and cowering as though he were being beaten while doing so.

"I'm sorry master!" Severus shouted in his delirium at a memory that could only have been about Voldemort. Severus then began crying out and screaming as though he were in the throes of the cruciatus curse.

"Rastus!" Harry said, his voice hoarse from crying. "Can't you do anything for him?"

"No young Snape," Rastus whimpered back. "Rastus has tried everything he knows how."

"There's no phone to call for help! And Hedwig can't leave her babies!" Harry paced the room as he spoke.

"Rastus can go through the barrier to fetch help..."

"NO!" Harry clutched both of the elf's shoulders. "If the wrong people see you, you'll be killed! Can we use the floo network here?"

"Snape Manor is disconnected from the floo network. The barrier by the big tree is the only way in or out."

"Can you brew a healing potion?" Harry asked in desperation. "House Elfs is not supposed to be brewing potions. Rastus does not know how."

"No! And I can't brew anything because using my magic could kill me." Harry sat on the floor and sobbed. Rastus could only comfort him at this point.

After a while, Harry raised his head. "I've got it!" "No, father said that Snape Manor one and Snape Manor two have almost the same things in them both."

"But young Snape, Master Severus said young Snape may not go to Snape Manor One."

"We have no choice!" Harry shouted, putting a hand on his sire's clammy one. "What if Snape Manor One has the potion that could cure him? If I obeyed father and stayed here, he could die! If I go to Snape Manor One, and find a potion there that can help him, father will be angry and will probably punish me, but at least he'll still be alive to do it!"

"Young Snape!" Rastus shouted. "You cannot go. Rastus will not allow you to."

But Harry was already gone.

* * *

Draco combed through his hair with his slightly blackened fingers. He had not worn gloves while dying his hair, and hoped his hands would not remain stained for too long. Although he had initially not wanted to part with his pale blond hair, his glossy, blue-black locks were a welcome change. If he did not know who was staring back at him from the mirror, even he would not have recognized himself.

He prayed that none of the muggle medical staff would come in to check on him as he pulled the denim jacket on over his hospital pyjama bottoms. The jacket was a bit large, but Draco concluded that he would eventually grow into it. Dr. Pain did say that he was in the muggle school for doctors in training when he first purchased the jacket, and therefore must have been more grown up than Draco was at the moment. The pale boy held his head high as he exited his room, taking with him all the muggle treasures his new friends from the Psychic Research department had given him before apparently being obliviated by the ministry. To make the effect of being just a muggle boy more convincing, Draco wore the headphones on his head, even though he was not currently listening to the muggle music player. He needed to be able to hear everything around him in order to make his escape.

Not wanting to ride the strange lift room again, Draco started down the stairs at the end of the hall, hoping that it would eventually lead him out of the hospital.

Several flights later, Draco staggered out of the door on the ground floor of the hospital. He had never imagined that the act of descending stairs could be so utterly exhausting. Still holding his head high while feeling his legs starting to buckle beneath him, Draco walked toward a door at the end of the hall and was soon outside.

Exhilarated at his first breath of fresh air though he was, he knew he could not go much farther without resting for at least a little while. He sat on a small wooden bench which was situated next to a few trees along the walkway leading to the hospital. His legs were throbbing, his back ached, and his lungs felt as though they were rebelling against the exertion. Had he attempted to run from the hospital too soon? Draco watched the muggles passing with some interest as he attempted to further catch his breath. He especially liked the clothes a few of the female muggles wore. Two of them were apparently wearing trousers, but whomever made the trousers apparently ran out of fabric, causing the garments to barely reach the upper portion of the women's calves. As sloppily as their clothes were constructed, they managed to look good regardless. Draco had to close his eyes when another woman walked by, wearing trousers so short that the lower portion of her buttocks were exposed. Not that Draco didn't enjoy the sight, but he felt that he shouldn't be looking at things like that.

Yet another woman walked by with a shirt that exposed the upper portion of her breasts while keeping the nipples well hidden, prompting Draco to conclude that the woman must have recently borne a child and needed easy access with which to feed said child.

He tarried on the bench for a while after he had caught his breath, just watching people as they passed. One thing he could not understand, was why muggle women sometimes wore such uncomfortable looking shoes with tall spikes where the shoe's heel should have been. Surely she'd be more than likely to trip, and the raised heels forced the woman's back to curve most unnaturally. Draco concluded that those shoes must have been created because muggle men were sometimes violent and muggle women needed a weapon they could carry with them all the time. How badly must it hurt to be kicked with the spike on the woman's heel? Draco turned his attention to a family who somehow managed to walk whilst their noses were trained on reading materials in their hands. They all had brown bushy hair and dressed more like muggles going to a funeral did...

"GRANGER!" Draco hissed upon recognizing the daughter.

* * *

If the layout of Snape Manor One were truly similar to Snape Manor two, then Harry knew exactly where to go. He planned first to explore the largest labs for healing potions that might be able to help Severus. Failing that, he would search the first manor for just the potion's ingredients so that he could brew a healing potion personally. Sure he was risking his life, but even death would be preferable to life without his beloved father.

Without preamble, Harry ascended the steps and let himself in through the maple doors of Snape Manor one. Harry was immediately overcome with great pain as he passed through the magical wards. His stomach churned painfully, his muscles felt as though they were full of needles, and his head hurt so severely that he could barely see.

Harry collapsed on a bearskin rug a few metres from the main entrance, writhing in pain and crying for his father. Loudly. He pulled himself to his knees and began crawling in the direction of the largest laboratory on that level of the mansion.

Because he was so close to the floor, Harry felt vibrations that he knew should not be there. The vibrations grew ever more steady, until they took the unmistakable form of someone's footfalls. Very human footfalls. Harry looked around frantically for somewhere to hide, but his body would not allow him to move particularly quickly. In the end, all he could do was seek shelter beneath the bearskin carpet.

"Sevvie?" came a voice, that while unworldly, sounded distinctly human as well.

The sultry baritone voice continued to call for Sevvie." Eventually, curiosity won out and Harry raised the corner of the bear skin rug and peered out. He could not believe what he saw...

"M-Mister Malfoy?" Harry stammered at the pale man who had just entered the room. He was clad in white trousers and a matching white shirt and frock coat. The man's shoes and socks were white as well, as was the man's pale cascade of long, nearly waist length hair. What was Lucius Malfoy doing in Snape Manor One? How could he be here anyway? He was back in Azkaban wasn't he?

The man stopped suddenly and knelt beside the bearskin rug, lowering his ghostly head to look directly into Harry's eyes with his icy blue ones, which were strangely the only source of colour among the man's otherwise pale features.

"Malfoy?" the man, who Harry recognized moments later to be not Lucius Malfoy, but Lucien Snape, looked upon Harry with wonder. "I have not been referred to as Malfoy' in many years."

End Part Thirty-Two


	33. Bearer of Light

**Remembrance and Renewal **by **Avatar Arkmage** and **Nigel Tatsuya**  
Chapter Thirty-Two: **Bearer of Light**

Severus charged through the maple doors of Snape Manor one, nearly pulling both of them off of their hinges as we went. "Harry!" He stumbled into the foyer. "Harry, where are you?" He rounded the turn sharply, tripping over a bump under the bearskin rug.

"Oohhh!" The carcass groaned.

Severus tossed the pelt aside and pulled the little boy beneath into his arms. He lifted the hem of Harry's shirt and gasped at the dark bruising along his torso. The magical wards had caused the Interventio Interferous potion, which was still in Harry's body, to react violently. Shadowing along the boy's abdomen hinted at internal bleeding. "Must you let your curiosity take precedence over your basic will to survive?! You should have known this place would have been heavily warded! Your body can barely tolerate the wards leading into the Snape Manor grounds! How could you be so arrogant as to assume that your body could endure the heavier wards leading into Snape Manor One?"

"I'm sorry, father, I didn't know about the wards." Harry coughed, issuing a fine spray of blood from his mouth and nose. "And I didn't come here because I was curious!" Harry started whimpering. "I didn't come here just to disobey you!!"

"Why then?" Severus asked, examining a gash along Harry's hairline.

"You're really sick, father!" Harry sobbed. "You might die!"

"WHAT? What are you on about? You're the one who is ill."

"Severus!" Lucien's ghost called over Severus' shoulder, filling the dark haired man with fear.

"Stay away from him!" Severus stood abruptly and shoved his sire's ghost to the hardwood floor.

"You're not well, Severus!" The ghost of Lucien said, utilizing a thunderous intonation. One which had caused Severus great fear during his formative years.

"I most certainly am not ill. Harry on the other hand..."

A phial appeared in the ghost's hands. Lucien floated forward, wrapped its hand around Severus's neck, and backed him into the wall.

"No! No!" Harry screamed. He crawled feebly across the floor and held onto the elder Snape's legs. "Grandfather! Don't be cruel to him!"

"Take your medicine and stop carrying on like an infant!" Lucien shouted at the younger man. Severus struggled in his father's firm vice, unable to draw a full breath. Lucien grasped a handful of Severus's hair and snapped his head back. "I said, take your medicine!" He smacked Severus when he didn't readily comply.

Severus did not remember how he left Snape Manor one, but he soon found himself and Harry back in an upstairs bedroom of Snape Manor Two. Back in the exact replica of his childhood bedroom.

"Father?" Harry called. Severus sat on the edge of his childhood bed, upon which his own son now rested. Harry stared at his father with his now sightless green eyes. "Father...I can't see."

Ayame Chang, the mediwitch from St. Mungo's hospital moved out of the shadows, accompanied by Madam Pomfrey, who was sobbing into a handkerchief. "His retinas have detached." Dr. Chang explained, trying to hold her face in a professional manner.

"Is there nothing you can do?!" Severus shouted at the two women.

"No, Severus." Madam Pomfrey sighed. "The magic within the wards had a detrimental effect on his body. It's only a matter of time now."

"Am I going to die?" Harry gasped, tears welling in his eyes.

Severus wanted to say something to the effect of "you brought this upon yourself, you foolish boy," but he decided against it. Harry needed support more than anything else at the moment, yet he also needed the hard facts. Severus would deliver both with equal efficiency. "You're far too damaged to be healed, and you're too weak to recover on your own. But we will do what we can to make it bearable for you."

The finality in his voice hit hard. Harry began sobbing. The St. Mungos staff, and the others who Severus hadn't realized were there before, left the room, leaving father and son alone. Before the door closed, Severus noticed that even Weasley and Granger had been there, watching their best friend in utter silence. "I don't want to die, father!" Harry grabbed Severus's hand and hugged it to his chest. "I'm really afraid, father. I'm so scared!!"

Severus pulled Harry into his arms. Although he was reluctant to admit it, he was scared as well. How would he learn to live without his little angel, now that he had grown accustomed to him being around again? He had resigned himself to dying in the near future. He had certainly not resigned himself, however, to burying his own son.

And indeterminate measure of time passed. Soon a huge, and markedly out of place grin spread across Harry's face as he relaxed in Severus's arms. "Curious, I'm not afraid anymore, at least not as afraid as I was a while ago. I feel that I'm in your arms, and yet I feel like I'm floating away. You're close to me, and yet you seem to getting farther away."

Severus swallowed hard.

"Maybe when I'm this close to you, I feel too safe to be afraid, and things don't hurt as much either." With the last of his strength, Harry shifted his body slightly so that his head rested directly over Severus's heart. "You know, that first time you held me like this... when we were back in the infirmary, I felt safer than I had ever felt in my life. I knew you were my father then, and I hated that we never got the time together that other fathers and sons have." Harry's voice grew weaker. "I always wondered what it would have been like...if I had started my life in my father's arms..."

Severus bit his lower lip. How ironic that Harry would be ending his life, in the way many children typically began theirs.

"I guess you'll have to defeat Mouldyshorts yourself now." Harry said. "I know you can do it. The power I have is from mother ...but also from you. Especially you, you've taught me so much. And I know you're strong enough to defeat Mouldyshorts."

"How can you be so sure?"

"Well, you've raised me, haven't you? Even though it was only for a short time. The prophecy said I would have the power to vanquish the dark lord. I believe that power came from both you and mother. So you have that power too... because mother loved you just as she loved me."

The image of Lily, looking upon Severus with nothing but the purest form of love, flashed in his memories with the intensity of a fiery backdraft. "So it would seem." Severus replied, tears filling his eyes.

"Aw. You're crying again father?" Although Severus initially tried to deny it, Harry went on. "I know you are, I may not be able to see anymore, but I can hear the changes in your breathing."

Severus didn't answer, with Harry knowing him so well, words seemed unnecessary.

"I'm so tired." Harry said after a few more moments of silence.

"Then go to sleep." Severus choked, barely able to stifle his anguish.

"Will you be here when I wake, father?"

Severus knew very well that Harry would never wake again; that those green eyes, already glazed in death would soon close forever. He answered in the affirmative notwithstanding.

"I love you, father."

* * *

"NO!" Severus regained consciousness and sat up in his bed, gasping both from horror and from the difficulty of breathing with his exceedingly congested lungs. There were few nightmares which could have possibly compared to the horror of one where a parent was forced to bury their own child. It went against the logical order of the universe. It was wrong in every conceivable way. And Severus determined that it was far more painful than the Cruciatus curse itself. No, it was more painful that a thousand Cruciatus Curses cast simultaneously! 

The pain from his broken body faded into the distant background as the sheer agony of the prospect of losing Harry assaulted him full force. Severus could not stop crying for a few minutes thereafter, and sobbed into his sleeves. How could he have allowed himself to become so attached to Harry? Even though Harry was his son, he was also Harry Potter, the boy who lived, the boy who was destined to kill or be killed by the Dark Lord.

Both Harry and The Dark Lord had equal chances of emerging victorious. Severus could not let his illness take him. He would have to be there to turn the odds in Harry's favour. No matter the cost. No matter what.

Severus shifted on his pillow, his head hurt even worse than before, and his body ached everywhere. "Harry?"

No answer.

Moments later, Rastus timidly walked into the room. The pitiful creature was covered in bruises, and was bleeding from a mighty laceration on his forehead. Severus knew that the part-elf had been beating himself for a real or perceived dereliction in his duties.

"Rastus," Severus returned his throbbing head to the pillow, willing himself not to give in to his high fever, thereby descending into delirium once more. "Where is Harry?"

"OH MASTER SEVERUS!" Rastus bellowed, grabbing a nearby vase and breaking it over his head. "Rastus has failed you."

"Rastus!" Severus feebly attempted to raise his head once more, but did not succeed. "I command you to stop beating yourself at once! I would not willingly strike you, and you are not to injure yourself either, is that understood?" The elf bowed reverently and knelt at Severus's bedside. "Good! Now, where is Harry?"

The octarelf resumed bawling. "Young Snape is in SNAPE MANOR ONE! Rastus tried to make Young Snape stay here but Rastus cannot use magic to stop him, and young Snape would not listen to Rastus telling him not to go to Snape Manor One!"

"NO!" shouted Severus, pain tearing though his spine like needles from the action of raising his voice. He suspected Harry had gone into Snape Manor One, his fever-induced dreams had even hinted at it. Hearing it confirmed though, filled the weakened potion master with dark trepidation.

"Rastus has failed you, Master!" the elf ululated. "Rastus could not stop young Snape! Rastus is a bad house elf."

"There is no need to berate yourself." Severus exhaled heavily and closed his eyes once more. Trying to prevent Harry from doing something he really wanted to do was as difficult as changing the cosmological constant or making the speed of light equal something less than the speed of a dead slug. "When did he leave?"

"A few minutes ago! Rastus could not stop Young Snape from walking into Snape Manor One!" Rastus sniffled. "Rastus wants to go there and fetch him, but Rastus thinks Young Snape cannot pass through the wards more than once! The wards are magic and magic will hurt young Snape. He cannot be brought back or he could be dead!"

"True..." Severus swelled with rage. That imbecilic boy! He should have known there would be wards in place around the old manor! Even if he made it into the mansion with only a few injuries, going though the wards again to exit the mansion, would not only compound the injuries he already received, but would create even more. And he could not be healed for another day or so.

The thought of Harry being trapped in Snape Manor One...alone...or not...caused Severus to tremble. "Rastus, assist me from the bed."

"Master Severus wishes to go to the toilet?"

"That too," Severus whispered, speaking softly to keep his head from aching even worse. "But you must help me get to..." the pale man shuddered, "the original Snape Manor..."

Rastus levitated Severus out of the bed and wrapped a quilt around him. "Can Master Severus walk?"

Severus nearly fell whilst taking a few small steps. He not only felt too weak to walk adequately, he also was in too much pain. He felt as though his muscle tissues were being slowly dissolved. He tasted blood in his mouth and he knew he was bleeding from other orifices as well.

Haemorrhagic Fever?!

Severus could not understand how or why he was so ill, "Rastus, help me, I am unable to walk..."

Before Severus had even finished his reply, Rastus began to walk out of the bedroom, levitating his beloved master beside him.

* * *

Hermione, Hyperione and Herman Granger all stopped mid-stride as though they had been practising synchronized motions, and turned toward Draco at hearing their name. Draco momentarily froze. Would Mudblood Granger recognize him? Of course she would, she only saw him every day Gryffindor and Slytherin had classes together while Hogwarts was in session. 

Then again, the Malfoy that Granger was familiar with was blond and wore fine robes. At the moment, Draco was wearing a second-hand jacket and had hair almost as black as Harry Pottyhead's.

Although Draco desperately wanted to strangle Hermione for all the trouble she had caused, and to break the bones in her neck for her jeopardizing the relationship he was just beginning to build with Lucius, he did not want to be caught at escaping from the hospital. He surely did not want to languish back in the hospital room, unable to do anything for what little of the Malfoy family honour that remained.

There would come another time to deal with Hermione and other interfering mudbloods like her.

Thinking quickly, Draco dishevelled his black hair with his hands in the hopes of making himself even less recognizable. He was grateful when his hands came in contact with the headphones which he had not removed from his ears. He remembered one of the muggle songs from the CD player machine and began reciting the lyrics while rocking his head from side to side. He hoped to look as though he were singing along. The best thing about this particular song, was that it had the name Granger in it, thereby explaining why he had uttered it earlier.

_...kiss from a rose on the grey  
Ooh, the more I get of you, Granger, it feels yeah  
Now that your rose is in bloom  
A light hits the broom on the grey _

Hermione rolled her eyes and walked off. For a moment, she had thought that imbecile on the bench looked like Draco Malfoy, but decided she must have been mistaken. Draco would never look like that, and he wouldn't be singing along with a muggle CD player. He probably didn't know what a CD player was in the first place.

Once the Grangers passed through the main entrance of the hospital, Draco stood from the bench and limped toward the muggle street beyond. He wondered why muggles wrote songs about being kissed by plant matter. Could some one from the magical world have planted charmed roses in this songwriter's yard as a joke? Did some muggles simply have plant fetishes? Whatever the case, it made for a good, if hard to understand, song.

* * *

_"_I have not been referred to as 'Malfoy' in many years." Lucien Snape's ghostly form shone ethereally in the dimly lit antechamber of Snape Manor One. 

Harry fearfully regarded the spirit. To his bewilderment, Lucien Snape gazed upon Harry without a trace of the malice that Harry had grown accustomed to seeing on his face. The few times Harry had seen his grandfather during his sojourn outside of time, the malevolence was firmly in place.

It was almost surreal to see it absent now.

The spirit's icy blue eyes glowed like the bioluminescent life forms that made their homes in the part of the ocean untouched by sunlight. His scarred skin shone as well, though more faintly. Lucien's hair was either white or the palest blonde, and luminesced in a way that reminded Harry of light from the waning moon nearing its darkest phase.

Harry could do little more than stare at the vestige of his father's father as he lay helplessly on the immaculately clean hardwood floor. Evidently the wards surrounding the mansion hadn't deterred Rastus from his fastidious habit of scrubbing things unnecessarily. However, those very wards left Harry feeling as though he had been stoutly beaten from the inside outward. Harry knew he had neither the strength to flee, nor the capability of fighting back. He wasn't even sure if he were capable of defending himself. How does one fight against another who is already deceased, anyway?

Afraid, though he was, Harry decided that he could not risk incurring the ghost's ire. Severus's very life depended on what Harry could do to help him. Ironically, it now appeared that both their lives depended Lucien Snape. One who was himself, already dead.

"Grandfather," Harry began in as respectful a cadence as he could accomplish whilst being deathly afraid. Harry almost addressed him as Professor Snape or Mr. Malfoy, but decided that calling him grandfather' would endear Harry the most to the spirit. "Hi...uh...my name is Harry."

To Harry's astonishment, Lucien's ghost did not sneer or take on a wrathful cast. In fact, with the exception of his physical appearance, Lucien Snape's ghost bore little resemblance to his living counterpart. He looked almost...serene? Docile? Friendly? "I am Lucien Snape, at least that is who I was whilst I was still living." The spirit leaned even closer, casting an eerie luminance on the floor. "Harry. So that is your name. I've watched you pass by the manor with my son...your father. I've also observed you playing on the grounds for quite some time."

"Yes." Harry smiled nervously, he did not know what to expect from the ghost of such a violent man. "I'm pleased to finally meet you, grandfather."

"And I, you." Lucien smiled widely, extending a shimmering hand out to Harry.

"But..." Harry began, not taking his grandsire's hand. "...you're a..."

"...a ghost?" Lucien finished for Harry, looking somewhat amused. "Just because we can walk through doors without opening them, it does not mean we have no substance." He extended his hand once more. "Or that we cannot have substance when we so choose to."

Although Harry was afraid, he was even more afraid of angering the spirit. He compliantly grasped Lucien's hand, and was surprised that it did not feel as cold as spirit hands, or any other spirit part, were reputed to be. To be sure, it did not feel like the hand of a living person. It did not even feel altogether solid, but it could be held. It even felt slightly warm. "Your hand...it feels like ... it almost feels like... I'm holding ... some kind of energy."

"That is what a spirit is essentially." Lucien answered, trying to help Harry to his feet. "We are the energy left behind once the flesh is shed."

"Oww!" Harry groaned, falling back to the floor as pain ripped through his body. "Sorry Granddad, but I'm hurt. I don't think I can stand just yet."

"What is the matter...Great Merlin!" Lucien slowly lifted Harry's shirt and examined him. He then raised his free hand toward one of the nearby rooms. Phials of what appeared to be healing potions and jars of salves floated out toward them. "I cannot believe anyone would do this to a chi..."

"Oh no, no...it's nothing like that." Harry said quickly. "Father didn't hurt me. He's never struck me...er...well except for one time when I woke him up whilst he was having a bad dream, and sometimes he says really mean things, but he didn't do this. It was the wards, not him."

Lucien unstoppered one of the phials.

Harry crossed his arms protectively over himself. "Oh no, thank you, but I can't take a healing potion right now. You see..." Harry explained the events of the past month to Lucien, which meant that Lucien not only learned of Voldemort's movements and what was going on currently in the wizarding world, but also about muggle fireworks factories, cars that ran on hydrogen, weightlifters, soft drinks which could be used as weapons if you shook their containers, and douchebags.

"What exactly is a dushbag?" Lucien's ghost interrupted Harry in the middle of his report.

"I don't know, I was actually hoping you might tell me?" Harry said, allowing Lucien to gingerly turn him over so that he could better examine his back for injuries. "But that's okay, father and some of the other adult wizards didn't know what it was either. I have a muggle friend, and I plan to ask her about it when I see her again. Would you like me to tell you what it is then?"

"That would be lovely." Lucien nodded, checking Harry's legs and frowning when he saw that one of Harry's calves was greatly darkened due to heavy bleeding beneath the skin.

Harry resumed his jabber about everything directly (and indirectly) leading up to why he had come to Snape Manor One, as well as how the Interventio Interferous potion had come to be in his body, and how the wards around Snape Manor One had interacted badly with it.

Oddly, compared to others Lucien seemed to be far less confused than nearly anyone else would be after hearing one of little Harry's narratives. Either Grandfather learned things extremely quickly, or else he was very adept at not looking perplexed even when he in fact was.

"So you're not really a child, but a de-aged teen?" Lucien asked as he gingerly half-carried, half-levitated Harry onto a couch.

"Yes," Harry replied as Lucien covered him with a blanket and tucked a pillow under his head. "But only until the Interventio Interferous is out of my system, after that, father is going to brew me a potion to turn me back to how I was."

"Nasty potion, that Interventio Interferous." Lucien shook his head knowingly. "Good job it is almost cleared from your system. If you had come through the wards any earlier, you would have suffered more than contusions and joint pains."

"Contoosions?" Harry repeated. "Do you mean bruises?"

"Yes. You appear to just have some really severe bruises right now." Lucien sighed, applying a cooling substance to a dark bruise on Harry's chest. "Fortunately, none appear to be serious enough to cause you more than discomfort."

"I wonder what would happen if I walked through the wards again? I'm going to have to when I return to the other Snape Manor?"

"I would advise you not to do so until you are cleared of the Interventio Interferous potion." Lucien stated.

"I wonder if father can wait until then." Harry exhaled heavily. "To think I came here hoping to find a potion or potion ingredients to help him, but now I can't even leave..."

"Judging from the extent of your injuries, it would appear that the potion will be out of your system completely in a matter of hours. But the house elf should be along before then. We can send word of your whereabouts to your father, as well as the potions he may need, with the elf at that time." Lucien stated, picking up a brightly polished silver ornament from a nearby shelf. It shined as though Rastus had already polished it that day, but Harry knew that the elf would probably polish the same piece of silver twelve times in a day if he had nothing else to occupy himself with. "So Sevvie, uh your father, will brew you a re-aging potion? From what I've seen of his skills, he could not only re-age you, but could re-age you to your precise age right down to the day. Harry, how old are you really?"

"I'm sixteen. I just turned sixteen on the Thirty-First of last month." Harry replied.

"So...you were already conceived at the time that I died then..." Lucien deduced.

"Uh huh." Harry said, finding it harder and harder to believe that the heavy-handed Lucien who had raised Severus, and the ghost before him were the same person. Grandmother was apparently correct about Lucien. Harry pondered once more how it was so unfair that grandfather lived a life of servitude, and was ultimately killed by his own master. So unfair about how father had to take grandfather's place as Mouldyshorts's potion master, as well as whipping boy. So unfair about grandmother, who had to endure beatings at the hands of a violent husband, and was eventually tortured into insanity... Harry went on, thinking of all of the people close to him who had been affected by Voldemort. He knew he was scowling, but he couldn't help himself.

"You look very much like Severus." Lucien commented, pushing Harry's hair back from his face.

"I do?"

"No one has told you that before?"

"No," Harry was about to tell his grandfather that people always told him that he resembled James Potter, but he figured it would require too much explaining. Instead, Harry spoke the next thought that came to his mind. "I really wish you had lived so we could have met sooner."

"You would not have liked me while I was alive." the ghost lamented, remorse weighing heavily in each syllable. "My brain and body were so damaged, I could hardly function like a normal, rational human being. It was a relief to die, actually."

Harry shuddered at that. How could one's life have been so bad that death, and haunting an empty mansion for seventeen years, be preferable? A part of Harry knew the answer, but the rest of him could not bear the thought of a life so destroyed.

"But that's not important now." Lucien said, sinking slightly through the floor so that he was at eye-level with Harry. "Now, tell me more about your father's illness. When did his symptoms start..?"

"GET AWAY FROM HIM!" Severus yelled when he and Rastus entered Snape Manor One several moments later. He scrambled out of Rastus's levitation charm, cast the bloody blanket aside and hobbled into the parlour where Lucien's ghost was leaning over Harry as he lay on one of the couches.

"Father!" Harry began.

Severus staggered to Lucien and shoved him with such force that the ghost was sent tumbling. "Don't...don't you go... near him!" Severus collapsed to the floor next to Harry's couch, his energy all but expended.

"Father no!"

Severus dragged himself over to the ghost and punched him. To Harry's horror, his sire's fist smashed Lucien partially into the floor.

"Severus, stop this!" Lucien held his spectral hands up in a gesture of defence. "It will accomplish nothing!"

Severus struck out again, but cried out in agony when his fist crashed through the immaculately clean wall. Lucien had resumed his conventional ghostly form, allowing Severus's fist to pass right through him.

"Are you quite finished?" Lucien silkily asked his son, who lay helplessly on the floor, cradling his hand in the other. "It accomplishes nothing to attack me, Sevvie, though I deserve every bit of your wrath. I can no longer feel pain."

Visions of Lucien beating Severus resurfaced, and his instinct to protect his father at all costs was not far behind. "Except the pain of guilt!" Harry said before he could stop himself. He regretted his quick tongue immediately. "Oh! I didn't mean to say that, I'm sorry."

"You are perceptive, Harry." Lucien sighed, his expression looking even more regretful than before. He approached Severus slowly, making no sudden moves so as not to frighten the younger man. "You cannot know how the pain of guilt torments me."

Severus dragged himself back to Harry's side and attempted to shield him with his own body.

"Sevvie," Lucien whispered, extending a ghostly hand slowly to his son.

"No father." Severus pleaded, his fever-induced delirium once more in control of his consciousness. "Father no! Please! Please don't beat me! Whatever I did, I'm sorry!"

Harry saw tears appear in the spectre's eyes at that.

When Lucien knelt beside Severus, the fallen man started to scream. "I'm sorry! I'm sorry! Please no more!" The words became sobs. "Stop!"

"Hold still, Sevvie." Lucien said as best he could with a trembling lower lip. He carefully turned Severus onto his back and assessed the younger man, even as Severus continued to struggle and beg for mercy.

"What's wrong with him? Is he going to be okay?" Harry asked anxiously, watching his grandfather work. Even though Harry suspected that the fever was influencing Severus's reactions at the moment, it made the scene before him only slightly less painful to watch. Seeing a parent carrying on this way was disturbing enough; the fact that Harry knew what his father had indeed gone through during his youth, made it all the more difficult to accept.

"Don't beat me any more! Mother may hear!" Severus cried, his weak countermoves against his ghostly father futile. "NO! Noooooo!"

"Haemorrhagic fever..." Lucien said at last. The ghost stood and carried Severus toward another couch. Seeing what was going on, Rastus threw a stack of absorbent linens onto the sofa before Lucien lowered his son upon it. Rastus removed Severus's blood-soaked nightshirt and covered him with a fresh blanket before leaving to launder the sullied items. "Harry, have you and Sev- I mean, your father, travelled outside the UK recently."

"No..." Harry replied, puzzled at the blood on Severus's body. "What's hemo-raging fever, anyway? It sounds like a muggle name for a sickness."

"It is, but both magical and muggle folk are susceptible to the disease." Lucien's ghost looked once more at Harry and then cast some sort of barrier around the couch that Severus was on. "It is usually contagious, contingent upon what the infecting agent was. Harry, have you and your father been around muggle military bases or laboratories lately?"

"Well no, but we did go into muggle London last week. And we visited some one in a hospital, and they have laboratories there."

Lucien spelled himself clean, then knelt beside Harry and examined him. "You've had no symptoms as well?"

"No, I feel fine, except for being sore from going through the wards. But then again, whatever this hemo-raging fever is, it comes about fast, because father looked just fine until this morning."

"Those scratches on Severus's face." Lucien motioned to the faint imperfections on his son's cheeks. "They appear to have been healed recently, within the last seventy-two hours? How did he get them?"

Harry explained about his owl Hedwig's mate, and how the owl had attacked Severus a few days ago. "You don't think the owl made father sick do you?"

"Not the owl." Lucien sounded deep in thought when he answered. "More than likely it was the owl's prey. Rodents are the hosts of many diseases which can infect humans..."

"Like how the rats spread the plague?" Harry asked.

"Exactly."

"Oh...so whatever Hedwig's mate was feeding her, its blood might have still been on the owl's claws when it attacked father?" Harry guessed. "So because it made cuts in father's skin, it could have infected him then? So maybe that's why even though I've been everywhere father has been, I'm not also sick. But then again, it could depend on our immunity too, maybe father's resistance was lower? Gee, grandfather, figuring how some one got sick isn't easy is it?"

"It is not, but you're a remarkably clever boy, Harry." Lucien commended, looking so smug as he said so, that he reminded Harry strangely of Draco Malfoy. His expression once more turned forlorn. "So much like your father."

It took Harry some time to fully grasp what Lucien had said. Lucien would not have known that Harry and Severus had been ever separated, after all.

"Well, as much as I enjoy having someone to talk to again," Lucien rose to his full height and began floating out of the parlour, "I'll have to start brewing some medicines for your father. I fear I have no potions on hand which could help him at the moment."

"May I help?" Harry asked, sitting up slowly.

"Are you sure you're feeling up to it?"

"Oh yes, it's just..." Harry slowly stood, or rather, he attempted to, "Aah!... a few - ouch!- bruises."

"Hmm...I think I have some non-magical analgesics you might try." Lucien lifted Harry into his arms. "And in case you have been infected with the viral agent affecting your father, some gamma globulin may help you as well."

"It will keep me from getting sick?"

"It can make you more resistant, but like many muggle treatments, and some of ours as well, it is not faultless."

Harry felt as though he were suspended in midair, even in his grandfather's ghostly arms. It was a pleasant experience, and Harry wondered why the ghostly Lucien even bothered walking like a living person at all. He obviously had no need to do so.

As Harry had predicted, the large room at the end of the hall had been converted into a laboratory. Caldrons occupied most of the space on the counters and on the floor, and measuring devices, phials, beakers and reagents took up the rest of the counter space. Harry was surprised to see racks and racks of completed potions in the adjacent rooms.

"Well Harry, being that I have nothing else with which to occupy my time," Lucien replied as if in response to Harry's thoughts, "and I require no sleep, I spend my days and nights brewing and doing research." After Lucien had given Harry some non-magical analgesic potion and a shot of immune globulin, they set to work. Harry watched in amazement as Lucien summoned a caldron into the work area and started a fire under it by merely pointing at it. The spirit then gathered some non-magical ingredients and gave them to Harry to process. The spectre then started chopping up some anomalous preserved matter, which had a frightening black glow around it.

"Grandfather," this question had plagued Harry for quite some time now, "why do some people die while others become ghosts?"

"It depends greatly on the individual," Lucien added some dried ingredients to a mortar and began to pound them as he spoke. "Some people may have been so unprepared for their own deaths that they either refused to die, or could not believe that they were indeed dead. Other people may have died with so much of their work unfinished, that they felt obligated to stay a bit longer."

Lucien paused briefly to summon Rastus, and instructed him to move Severus into to one of the bedrooms near the labs so they better could monitor his condition.

"The beliefs an individual held whilst living, also has a bearing on what becomes of them when the body dies." Lucien said, stirring the caldron. "Many go on to their idea of an afterlife, while others simply cease to be. Some people linger in a place between death and life, unable to chose either."

"What about you, granddad?" Harry asked, feeling somewhat less inhibited due to the muggle analgesics. "If you don't mind my asking."

"Not at all. My death..." the spirit paused briefly while decanting a potion, "it was so painful...I was in agony for weeks beforehand. I was buried, whilst I was still alive."

"YOU were buried alive?!" Harry squeaked.

"Well Sevvie- your father didn't know I had not expired yet. Even a muggle doctor with all of their eccelectric equipment would have pronounced me dead. I had no heartbeat and I believe no physical brain activity, so naturally I would have appeared dead. But Voldemort cast a spell upon me that would keep my body only minimally alive for weeks, months even. Even if my body were to die, I would remain trapped within it for a time whilst it slowly decomposed.

"So you could not even die properly? I saw you on that day..." Harry whispered. "When I was near death and outside of time, I saw Mouldyshorts hit you with the cruciatus curse." After you saved father from the full eight hours of the Animalia potion. Harry wanted to add.

A ghostly tear rolled down Lucien's cheek, followed by a look of rage so malevolent, that Harry was ready to hobble away. Harry realized though, that Luicen's grief and anger were not directed toward him, but toward Voldemort. Harry wondered if ghosts could be useful in the fight against Voldemort. Lucien surely looked as though he wanted to kill Voldemort, and fight his ghost for eternity.

The look of rage faded, and the ghost started sniffling as more tears coursed down its cheeks.

"Oh grandfather, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to bring up such a bad memory..."

"It's quite all right." Lucien replied, the tears seeming to reabsorb into his ghostly skin. "As I've said, it was a great relief to die. After your father buried me beneath the labs on the lowest level of Snape Manor, I panicked. Being buried alive is a frightening experience. So I started clawing my way out of the coffin, and up through the dirt on my grave. It wasn't until I was back in my labs again that I realized that I hadn't opened my coffin to get out of it. I also hadn't disturbed the soil in climbing from it. I had somehow, I don't know how, escaped from my body. My body was, and is, still buried beneath this structure..."

Harry's green eyes were so large with shock that he bore an uncanny resemblance to Dobby the House Elf.

"But I was finally free! For the first time in many years, I could move about without any pain. What I've never told your grandmother, or your father whilst I lived, was how much pain I was always in. Voldemort and his minions destroyed my body bit by bit over the years. By the last years of my life, my nerves were very raw. I could barely function without heavy doses of pain-relieving potions." Lucien's face tightened as he remembered the pain, "so you see, Harry, being free of my body was one of the greatest things that could happen to me. Even better still, my mind felt like my own again after so many years. I could think complete thoughts, without being overwhelmed by my own irrational anger. All those years with the Death Eaters left my brain damaged along with my body. But I'm free now."

"So you actually enjoy being a ghost?" Harry asked, bringing the substances he had finished processing to his ghostly grandfather.

"More than I can articulate with mere words." Lucien said, smiling once more in the way that reminded Harry disturbingly of his arch-rival, Draco Malfoy. "Ironic that I'm finally living the life I could only dream of before...whilst not really living."

"Aren't you lonely, though?" Harry asked. "Being in this mansion all by yourself."

The spirit's expression turned downcast once more. "I get very lonely sometimes. If it weren't for Rastus, I don't think I could have gone on with it all these years."

"Doesn't father visit you?"

Lucien shook his head. "Not that I blame him. I was such a horrible father to him. No child deserves a father like me."

* * *

With Severus still in the throes of his feverish delirium, Harry could see just how much his father really feared his grandfather. When Lucien approached the doorway to the room Severus was in, the younger man once again began screaming in terror. 

"Sevvie," Lucien coaxed, approaching his son slowly with the potion he had just completed.

"Please father!" Severus sobbed, curling into a protective ball on the bed. "I did not mean to lose to Black! He had Potter to assist him, it wasn't a fair fight! No! Please father! Please don't hit me."

"Sevvie, take your medicine." Lucien coaxed once again.

"What is that? A pain inducing potion?" Severus whimpered, looking at the vial with horror. "I'll hurt for months! Can't you just use your belt or the whip instead? I won't even scream when you hit me, I promise!"

"Grandfather?" Harry called, slowly approaching the doorway. "Can I try giving it to him?"

"It's too dangerous, Harry." Lucien sighed. "He's very contagious, what's more, he's not in his right mind, he could injure you..."

"I know, please let me try though?" Harry implored. "I can't stand to see him like this."

"Very well." Lucien handed Harry the vial. "Take care that you don't let him swallow it all at once. It has a coagulant that should slow some of the bleeding in his throat, and an agent that should repair his ..."

"Go AWAY, Potter!" Severus yelled.

"Huh?" Harry asked.

"Did you come here to laugh at me, Potter?" Severus hissed, blood staining his teeth red. "You, Pettigrew and Black didn't stare your fill at the damage you caused today? Have you never seen bruises like these before?"

Harry tried to talk to Severus, but it was doubtful that the man would hear what he had to say.

"Perhaps I should give you a bruise of your own to stare at!" without prelude, Severus lunged forward and punched Harry squarely in the jaw.

End Part Thirty-Three


	34. Darkest Phase

**Remembrance and Renewal** by **Avatar Arkmage** and **Nigel Tatsuya**   
Chapter Thirty-Four: ** The Darkest Phase **

Greatly diminished by his illness, Severus's punch neither bruised Harry's jaw, nor caused him to lose consciousness. The blow merely sent him backpedaling until he landed forcefully on his backside. The vial, still Harry's palm, shattered. 

"Aaaaaah!! Aaaah!" wailed Harry, holding the slightly reddening spot on his cheek where Severus's fist had struck him. Although his hand burned where the potion seeped into the newly-incised glass cuts, the fact that his father had hit him, however lightly, caused his cheek to hurt as though Severus had struck him at full force. 

"What have you done to yourself, Potter?" Severus fell back onto his pillow and sneered. "Your stature is that of a young child. Were you so vain, that you, Black, Lupin and Pettigrew attempted to brew an age-altering potion on your own? With the exception of Lupin, the lot of you barely possess the competence required to brew a pot of tea! How could you even hope to attempt a proper age modifier?" 

Harry only stared at Severus and whimpered. 

"Were you hoping sneak past an age line, Potter? Hoping to impress Evans again? Or were you merely attempting to rid yourself of acne?" 

"Waaaaaaaaaaaah!!" 

"Silence, Potter!" Severus held two pillows against his ears to muffle the sound of the boy's voice. "It repulses me that the blood pumping through your vainglorious heart is the same as mine!" 

The words ripped through Harry like venom injected directly into his spinal column. The stinging in his palm, and throbbing in his cheek, quickly faded into the background. "The blood pumping through my vainglorious heart...? The same...WHAT? You're repulsed?" 

"Harry, your father is not referring to you right now." Lucien sank into the floor until he was at eye-level with Harry. 

"He said...he said..." Harry began to weep convulsively. "I repulse him!" 

"Harry, heed what I am saying. Your father's feverishness is impacting his rational processes. His current animosity is directed toward another, not you." Lucien wrapped his spectral arms around his living grandson's trembling form. "Severus loves you. He may have been too stubborn to ever say that to you, but I have watched both of you for many a day on the grounds. I sense only love in his actions towards you." 

"He did mean to say that I repulse him! Who else is related to him by blood?" Harry glanced at Severus, who was once again struggling against an assailant only he could see. "Hang on, Grandfather; not even you and father have the same blood, am I right?" 

"That is correct, but that is a story for another time." Lucien rose until he was a few centimetres off the floor, then faded away. He reappeared in the room a few seconds later, bearing a second phial of potion. Fortunately, he had thought to brew more than would be needed, in the event the first bottle failed to work or was destroyed. "Sevvie, take your potion." 

"YOU?" Severus began shivering and feebly scooted away. "What are you doing here?" 

"Take your potion." Lucien ordered. 

Severus responded by trying to flee, but the heavy loss of blood left him far too weak to stand. He took hold of a glass candelabra next to the bed and broke it against the night stand. "You will keep your distance, Lupin!!" Severus held a jagged edge of the broken candelabra in front of him like a clear blade. "Is it not enough that you nearly killed me during the last full moon?" 

In the time required for him to draw a full breath, Severus's expression changed once more, and took on a childlike cast. He turned to Lucien and began to cry in terror. "Is mother still alive?" 

Lucien closed his eyes and clenched his jaw so firmly that Harry thought he saw ghostly blood ooze over his teeth. 

"Why did you beat her again?" Severus sobbed in a child's cadence, his dark eyes wide, beseeching. "Why do you always beat us? I think my ribs are broken. It hurts to breathe, and mother couldn't walk this afternoon. Why...why did you attack her again?" 

Lucien turned away, spectral tears glistening on his pallid cheeks. 

"Oh!" Severus cried, retreating beneath the covers. "You're angry now. Oh no, please no, don't hurt me. Please don't hurt me. I'll be a good lad! Don't beat me again! If you do, I'll surely die, and then you'll have no one besides mother to..!" 

"Grandfather..." Harry adjured, "...he needs his potion. Force him to take the potion now! He's becoming more and more sick." 

Lucien nodded, wiping his face unnecessarily and taking a series of deep cleansing breaths before continuing. "SEVERUS!" It was the thunderous voice Harry was more accustomed to hearing from Lucien. The spectre floated directly over Severus's bed and moved his hand threateningly to where his belt buckle would have been. "TAKE YOUR POTION!" 

Severus wailed. 

"TAKE YOUR POTION AT ONCE!" 

"FATHER! Father please, please don't force me to drink that potion!" Severus screamed, clutching Lucien's sleeve. "I cannot endure any more pain! I know about the dark potions used for punishment! Oh, I should not have told you, but yes, I've studying your potion tomes, so I know about those torture potions..." 

"YOU WILL DRINK THIS POTION!" Lucien shouted in his best imitation of his former self. "TAKE IT, OR I SHALL GIVE YOU A BEATING YOU'LL NOT SOON FORGET!!" 

Severus looked even more terrified than before, as though he had been hit with a petrification spell. Lucien roughly grabbed a handful of Severus's hair, snapped his head back, and pried his mouth open. The younger man was trembling so much, Harry wondered if he could even swallow properly. Lucien poured the potion in slowly, making sure to allow ample time for the thick potion to coat the inside of Severus's mouth as it trickled down his throat. 

"Please father, don't hurt me anymore." Severus looked at Lucien with wide, innocent eyes that nearly broke Harry's heart. The boy, who still dwelt within Severus braced, as though to fend off a blow. "I'm sorry, father, really. I'll be good..." 

Lucien smoothed Severus's hair from his face and coaxed his head back onto the pillow. 

Severus refused to relinquish his sire's sleeve, and clung as though he might fall to his death otherwise. "Don't go, please don't go. Mother cannot survive another..." And with that, Severus closed his eyes, and succumbed once more to the blissful course of oblivion. 

"Now it is in your hands, Sevvie." Lucien said, placing a loving kiss on his son's forehead. "I command you to fight your illness. That is an order! You will not leave your son when he needs you most, I forbid you to join me in death as long as Harry needs you!" 

"Won't the potion cure him?" Harry asked, wiping at his eyes with his uninjured hand. 

"There is no 'cure' for most of the viruses that cause the haemorrhagic fever, but the potion we've brewed together should enhance his body's defences against it." 

Lucien sank through the floor in front of Harry, and summoned a set of forceps. Harry removed his hand from his cheek, to better allow his grandfather to inspect the area where Severus had struck him. 

"Wounds inflicted by those who ought to love and protect you are the most painful." Lucien muttered more to himself than to Harry. 

The only response from Harry was quiet sobbing. 

The spectre gingerly eased the hand that held the shattered phial from Harry's side, and only then did Harry notice the shards of glass embedded in his flesh. Lucien applied an anaesthetising salve onto Harry's tiny hand, and when numbness set in, began carefully removing the shards of glass. "Haemorrhagic fever, depending on the agent that caused it, can have a recovery rate of as little as one percent. This potion should increase your father's chances of recovery greatly." 

"But he will recover?" 

"Your father is a obstinate man. He's survived The Dark Lord and his minions for many years." Lucien's voice ebbed, ghostly tears threatening once more. "Severus has survived a brutish lout of a father like me. Surely you do not think he will allow a mere virus to kill him." 

Harry did not miss the fact that his grandfather did not give him a very clear answer. Another question bit at him more fervently. 

"Grandfather." Harry winced as one of the larger fragments of the phial was removed. "I noticed when you went for your...your belt...well...you didn't have one..." 

"Severus dressed me in these clothes prior to my burial. It is the same type of attire I typically wore in life, except for one thing..." 

"Father didn't put your belt on?" 

"Evidently." 

"Well, good job you wouldn't have to worry about your trousers falling down whilst you're a ghost." Harry said, feeling immense relief when Lucien rubbed additional anaesthetizing/antimicrobial salve on the glass cuts. "But I think I can understand why father didn't want to bury you with your belt on." 

Lucien nodded grimly. He summoned bandaging materials and began wrapping Harry's hand. "How Sevvie must have suffered whilst I lived. He probably could not even bear to look at my belts." Lucien watched his now unconscious son breaking into a cold sweat. "I hated using that accursed tone again with him just now..." 

"...You had to, Grandfather. He wouldn't have taken his medicine otherwise." Harry finished, watching Severus writhing in his potion induced unconsciousness. "Maybe he won't remember any of this, with his fever so high." 

"There are so many things I wish dear Severus could forget..." Lucien sighed, still holding onto Harry's bandaged hand. 

Harry could not forget the things Severus had said to him. "But why did father say that it repulsed him that we had the same blood?" Harry started to cry again. The pain of Severus's rejection resonated through him deeply. "Fever or not, he must really think that if he would say it at all!" 

"Harry, as I've stated before, your father was not referring to you then." Lucien soothed, helping Rastus replace some of the blood soaked linens on Severus's bed with clean ones. "In his mind, he was talking to someone else." 

"Who else could he have been saying that too?" Harry sobbed, wondering if Severus might have been referring to James Potter, but then James Potter was not related to the Rogues...was he? "He wouldn't have said that to Grandmother?" 

"Another..." Lucien started floating toward the doorway. 

Harry ran after him. "WHO?" 

"I am not certain that I should be the one to discuss this matter with you." Lucien continued to float away from Harry, but the boy pursued him. 

"So you do know!" Harry grabbed at the back of Lucien's robes, but his hands passed right through them. Evidently ghosts, particularly Lucien's ghost, could choose when to be semi-solid, and when to be completely ghostlike. "If I have another relative, I have a right know!" Harry was chasing after his grandsire so ardently that he ran right through him when the spectre suddenly stopped. 

"Harry, have you eaten anything today?" This time, Lucien knelt before Harry, rather than sinking through the floor. "With your father unable to care for you and all..." 

Harry had, in fact, initially refused to eat that morning. Of late, he found that he no longer enjoyed eating alone, and told Rastus he would not eat at all until his father could join him. Eventually, Rastus managed to convince Harry to eat a meagre bowl of porridge with him. 

Now that grandfather had brought the subject up, Harry suddenly realized he was very hungry. "No, but I'm not hungry at all." Harry lied. "Why are you changing the subject anyway? If you know something, grandfather, please tell me!" 

A rather audible growl escaped from somewhere within Harry's belly before Lucien could reply. Lucien grinned smugly and lowered his white-haired head toward Harry's torso as if to better listen for a second telling rumble. "You may not believe that you're hungry, but your digestive tract has just made its needs known." 

"Grandfather! Please answer me!" Harry implored. "If you don't, I'm going to continue to think that father meant to say those cruel things to me! And I'm going to think that you just told me that father didn't mean to say those things so I wouldn't feel sad, but I'm going to continue feeling sad because you won't tell me who father was really referring to. And if father really wanted to insult someone other than me, I'm going to keep right on wondering who that person is, and that is if I really believe that there was another person, but you won't tell me who he is. And if father really did mean to tell me that he was repulsed that we shared the same blood, then I'm going to cry and I'm not going to stop for a long long time." 

"Very well..." Lucien said, not wanting Harry to cry again. "...I suppose there are matters that you'll find out eventually. So perhaps it would be better if you learned them from a member of your own family, than from other sources..." 

Harry threw his arms around Lucien, who was semisolid once more. 

"Come, you must have some nourishment." Lucien lifted Harry into his arms, and floated into the dining room where Rastus had prepared a simple meal of stew, bread, tea, pumpkin juice and treacle tarts. After excusing himself to wash his hands in one of the nearby bathrooms, Harry joined the others at the table. 

Harry was amazed at Rastus's ingenuity. All the while he had been assisting Severus, Rastus had also been simmering the stew, baking bread, and making tarts. A simpler meal than the elf typically served, but considering that Harry spent the majority of his early life starving, he soon found his mouth watering with anticipation. 

Harry was surprised to see Lucien sit beside him at the table as well. "Wow! Can you really eat? I didn't know ghosts could..." 

"Not in the same way a living person can," Lucien replied, ladling stew from the tureen first to Harry's plate, then to his own, as though he were serving himself, but putting nothing on his plate. "Although I no longer require nourishment, I can remember how many foods tasted and I can still sense aromas. I've dined this way often with Rastus when had his meals in Snape Manor. He is a most pleasant companion." 

From his place directly across Lucien, Rastus bowed reverently as he buttered his bread. "You is a kind spirit, sir." Harry ate a few spoonfuls of stew and munched his bread. As always, the flavourings of the foods were exquisite, but something else gnawed at Harry's consciousness. "So grandfather, you still haven't answered my question." 

Lucien raised his hand to tell Harry to wait, as he moved the fork from his mouth and began chewing as though he had just taken a large portion. He went through the motion of swallowing before replying. "Very well, Harry. Your father was referring to his biological brother." 

Harry choked on a carrot. "His BROTHER?! But I've never seen a brother in Snape Manor..." 

"He grew up in another home." Lucien answered, taking the empty teacup to his lips and pretending to drink. "As you have mentioned to me, you know already that I am not Severus's biological father. Well, Severus's real father also sired another son." 

Harry went white. "Who...who is the son? And who is father's real father, then?" 

"You would not have known Sevvie's real father..." 

"But you did?" 

Lucien nodded, moving his fork to and from the plate and 'chewing.' "The son's father's family were well known in the wizarding community and were friends of my family." 

"WHO? Your 'friend' had a name didn't he?" 

"His name was Potter." Lucien replied quickly. He had grown frustrated that Harry simply would not let the matter drop. Ordinarily, children could be satisfied with highly simplified answers. Not so with Harry. "His son, Severus's biological half-brother, is James Potter." 

Harry dropped his teacup into his plate of stew, sending gravy in all directions. Even when Rastus sprang from his seat to clean the mess, Harry sat motionless. 

Although things made even less sense than before, some things instantaneously became more clear to Harry. The animosity between Severus Snape and James Potter made more sense than before. In Severus's pensieve, he had heard James Potter give his reason for harassing Severus as "...it's more the fact that he exists." So he wasn't attacking father simply because father was in the vicinity, but because Severus existed at all. Just because he was alive. What Harry had witnessed in the pensieve was not mere bullying, but an extreme form of sibling rivalry. Had James Potter seen Severus as a rival to his inheritance? Had the rape of Mervidith Rogue, and the subsequent birth of Severus been such a shame on the Potter family that James hated Severus on that fact alone? Did Severus resent James for being the legitimate Potter heir; for having a comparatively luxurious life whilst Severus lived under the heavy hand of Lucien Snape? 

"We never intended to let Severus know of his true paternity, no child wants to know they were conceived under such circumstances. As far as your grandmother and I were concerned, Severus was OUR son. We did not wish Severus to think otherwise. Unfortunately, the Potters either told James, or else James found out about Severus on his own. Whatever the case, James Potter informed Severus of it and harassed him mercilessly. James never missed the opportunity to make it known that Severus was the bastard child." Lucien continued, 'ladling' more stew onto his very clean plate. 

Harry also helped himself to more stew, and began gnashing his teeth while chewing on the tender vegetables within. He still loved James Potter, because he had initially raised him, but he also loved Severus for nurturing him now. Anger rose in Harry's abdomen, threating to burn a hole in his stomach and duodenum. So one of those pure bloods who raped Mervidith Rogue was James Potter's father?! 

"When Severus initially owled me about what James Potter had told him, I flooed over to Hogwarts immediately to explain matters..." contrition spread across Lucien's features. 

"You beat father for even asking about it?" Harry hazarded. 

"I hurt him so badly, that I had to take him to St. Mungos that weekend. Potter and his friends had already charmed Severus's broom to malfunction. Severus was thrown from it and consequently injured. He was already in the infirmary when I arrived at Hogwarts. At the time, I was very angry that Severus had allowed those pestilent Gryffindor boys assault him." 

Harry wiped his eyes on his napkin. 

"I asked the school nurse to leave us alone for a while." Lucien went on, tears appearing in his icy blue eyes. "Then I beat Severus for his weakness, as well as his audacity to even doubt that I was his father. At the time, I could not understand how Severus might have been feeling. Finding out that he had been conceived by rape can be very traumatic. All I could see, was that he allowed himself to lose to a group of Gryffindors." 

Lucien lowered his head in humility. "I did not confirm his true paternity, because in my mind, Severus was my son, and for him to even question that, enraged me." Lucien wiped a ghostly tear away from his cheeks. "Severus did not cry out as I thrashed him, he just cried and endured the pain quietly. When I finally realized what I was doing, he was unconscious." 

"Poor father." sobbed Harry. 

"Indeed. I informed the nurse that I wanted the mediwizards at St Mungos to sort him out, and I left Hogwarts with him..." 

Harry could barely get his head around what his Grandfather had just disclosed. The beating. If Severus's weak punch had hurt Harry so much, how badly must being beaten until you needed to be hospitalized feel? How much worse must it feel when your own father put you there? 

"I don't know whether Severus truly believed that James Potter was his brother. The two of them hated one another from their first year. Judging from how many times Potter and his mates assaulted Sevvie though, he was reminded of it quite often." Lucien sighed, putting the empty fork to his lips once more. "If there were a way that I could take some of the pain that Severus endured away from him, I would not hesitate to do so." 

"Well... why don't you just tell father you're sorry then? I can tell that you truly are sorry for all the bad things you did to him, but father doesn't know. He might not forgive you right away, but telling him is a start." Harry began sobbing again. "He was afraid of you, granddad! Father's really scared of you even now. He still has nightmares about you beating him, and he thinks he's just a big disappointment to you. He doesn't even know if you love him. I know, because sometimes I can feel things that he is feeling, especially when he's really sad or scared." 

Lucien blinked his eyes in astonishment. Might fathers and sons sometimes share such close empathic connections? 

"And one night, I found him outside on the porch of the other Snape Manor...he was very sad. He wouldn't tell me exactly what he was sad about, but I saw that he was looking toward Snape Manor One and trying not to cry." 

Lucien hid his face in his hands. 

"Before I woke up to look for him, I dreamed father was terrified of coming home because of you. And when I did find him, he was looking so sadly in the direction of Snape Manor One." 

"I was staring back at him that night, Harry." Lucien rose and started to help Rastus clear the table. "I watched Sevvie trying to hold that same straight face that I forced him to wear whilst I lived. I even saw him go to strike you when you tried to console him...but Rastus would not allow it." 

Harry wrapped his arms around Rastus, as did Lucien, when the part elf began sobbing. "Thank you for all that you've done, Rastus." 

"Rastus does not deserve such kindness from wizards." he loaded the dishes and serving vessels into a tray and bore them away quickly. "Rastus is used to mistreatment by his owners." 

"You don't deserve it. You didn't deserve it then." Harry objected, following the octarelf into the kitchen. "Never say that you do! And besides, father never meant to hit either of us." 

"Rastus, do you know that a spirit's eyes do not see all the same things as a living person can?" Lucien said, floating through the wall and into the kitchen. "Do you know what I see when I look at you, Rastus?" 

The octarelf shook his head as he hopped on the stool and began washing the dishes. 

"I see a loving person with both human and elf blood." 

"So do I!" Harry seconded. 

"And you are a better individual than I was." Lucien said, fading through the wall.

* * *

Harry charged out the door only to find that Lucien was nowhere to be found. He moped back to the room his father was in to find Lucien's ghost weeping quietly over his son, who was stirring slightly in his sleep. Instinctively, Harry wrapped his arms around Lucien's waist to console him, but his arms passed right through the entity. 

"I want to make amends!" Lucien cried, regaining his semi-solid form and lowering his head to Severus's chest. "I've tried to apologize for all the suffering I've caused him. I tried to tell him on the very night I was buried and began my existence as a ghost." 

"He didn't listen to you?" 

"He fled." Lucien sighed. "He was so afraid of me that he would listen to nothing I had to say." 

"Aww," said Harry, kneeling beside Lucien and resting his head on the ghost's shimmering white side. Lucien wrapped an arm around Harry and assumed a seated position on the floor beside Severus's bed. "I am so relieved that being a Death Eater for all these years has not debased your father as it had me." 

"You saved father from full effects of the Animalia Potion." Harry said, remembering vividly the night shortly before Lucien's torture and murder. "I watched you destroying the vials of Animalia potion." 

"I've failed! I could not reach that last rack to destroy it before The Dark Lord stopped me." grated Lucien, his face contorting into a mixture of wrath and failure. 

"But you've saved him from being tortured for eight hours under the potion." Harry protested. "You were tortured that way weren't you?" 

The pale ghost winced and nodded. "Both my body and brain were so damaged when the eight hours were concluded, that I no longer felt like the same man I was before. Physically, I was always in discomfort or pain thereafter. Mentally, I was far worse, and could no longer even produce a complete thought, unless it was for the brewing of a potion. I was always angry without reason, and lashed out at anyone unfortunate to cross me in the slightest. Everyone around me suffered, but Mervidith and Severus suffered the most." 

"Oh grandfather..." Harry kissed Lucien on his cheek. "I really wish we could have met in life. I know so little about you, or any of my relatives for that matter. I don't know a whole lot about grandmother, except for a few glimpses I had of her when I was outside of time, I don't even know all that much about father. But I know the least of all about you... how you came to be a Death Eater, why you became a Death Eater, what your childhood was like, why you look so much like Lucius Malfoy...? I really don't know anything about you." 

"You wouldn't want to know me." 

"I do so!" Harry protested. "You're my grandfather! You're part of me even if we have different blood. Please? I won't tell anyone anything you tell me?" 

"Are you sure?" 

"Very sure Grandfather." Harry insisted. "You must be a ghost for a reason. And I don't think anyone should die without people being able to remember them properly. I think father only remembers bad things about you since he might have been too young to really know you before then. Please grandfather, you don't have to tell me too much. But...okay, I'll tell you what, you tell me about you, and I'll tell you everything about me. Please please please? I won't hate you for anything you tell me." 

"Very well." Lucien nodded at last. He really did want to know more about his only grandchild, and sharing some of his own memories was not a very high price to pay. "Perhaps talking about some of these things will ease both our souls." 

Harry stared at Lucien in a way that made him nervous. 

"I could show you if you like? Although I can't imagine why a brave child like you, one who confronted the Dark Lord in a fistfight and survived, would want to know more about a foolish old ghost like me." Lucien remarked. 

"You can show me?" Harry asked in wonder. "Please, I would like that. And you're not a foolish old ghost! If you were, how could you have known how to help father today?" 

"Very well." Lucien nodded. Without rising from the floor, he pointed to a cabinet in the nearby labs, and levitated a stone bowl out of one of the highest shelves. 

"You've kept a pensieve?" 

"Many wizards do." replied Lucien. "I needed my pensieve especially. With my being a Death Eater, The Dark Lord would often pry into my mind for weaknesses to exploit. I felt that my own memories were all weaknesses, so I used the Pensieve most extensively. Nearly all my memories are contained in here." 

"Are you sure you want to let me look at your personal memories? Penseives are really personal things, although I'll admit to looking into other people's penseives before." Harry asked, watching in awe as Lucien performed magic all without the use of a wand. Was it possible that Lucien was not a ghost like Nearly Headless Nick, who was a mere imprint left behind of a wizard that once lived. Was it because Lucien had not died properly when his spirit left his body, that he did not seem altogether like a proper ghost? Yes, perhaps it was not correct to think of Lucien as a ghost like Nearly Headless Nick, but more an actual spirit; a spirit like Harry had been when he had temporarily left his body while being so close to death. But what explained Lucien being both visible, and able to do magic? Could he somehow be composed of the magical energy which resided in Lucien's body while he lived? 

"While pensieves are highly personal items, I find that do not mind sharing mine with you, my only grandson. When one is alive, they are often very protective of their memories. When you're dead, you regret many things. There was so much I wanted to share with Sevvie and Mervidith, but lacked the courage. But if you are willing, Grandparents often bore their Grandchildren with stories of the old times past, after all." Lucien swirled the silvery surface with his fingers, causing images to float to the top randomly. "In this case, I can not only tell you a story of the old days, I can show you as well." 

Harry, who had never had the pleasure of a Grandparent's stories before, nestled his head into Lucien's side and watched the images rising from the Pensieve in fascination. "You could never bore me, Granddad. Never ever."

* * *

A pale, white-blond haired boy played with a black cat in the yard of a mansion far grander than both Snape Manors combined. Harry's stomach lurched, for he initially thought he were watching his despised rival Draco Malfoy. Upon closer observation, Harry realized that he was seeing a younger version of his own grandfather, the then Lucien Malfoy. 

"I was born in 1941, during a time when the muggles were involved in a great war." Lucien narrated as the boy in the pensieve, who was dressed in fine wizard's robes, kicked off on his broom and joined several other wizard children in a game of Quidditch. Harry eagerly perused the children's faces, wondering if he might recognize some of the older wizards still living today. "Amongst my earliest memories, were the sounds of distant explosions from the war. Our family went on holiday throughout Europe, regardless of what the muggles were doing, and in that time, I saw bombs and those exploding kill sticks called guns." Harry watched a toddler Lucien Malfoy approach two uniformed men who were throwing hand grenades from behind a pile of what appeared to be sandbags and crude stone blocks in a grungy muggle alley. Seconds later, an elegant blonde woman dressed in fine robes, popped out of a brick wall in a dark corner of the alley. Harry concluded that she probably was Lucien's mother, because she ran over to the boy and quickly snatched him away from the carnage. "Although we were warned to stay away from the warlike muggles, I only became more and more fascinated by them as I grew older." 

Time appeared to speed along from within the Pensieve, although exactly how much time passed, Harry could not ascertain. Lucien had apparently enjoyed a tranquil and luxurious childhood, probably not too unlike the childhood Draco Malfoy enjoyed. Lucien had all the wizard toys a child growing up in the 1940s and early 1950s could possibly want, and he never wanted for his favourite foods, for there were many house elves in the Malfoy Mansion who would prepare whatever he asked for no matter the time of day or night. He had little to no chores to carry out around the house, and Harry wondered how boys like Lucien or Draco learned to develop any sense of responsibility whatsoever. One thing that struck Harry, was how lonely Lucien's childhood appeared to be. Sure, he had many visits from his friends; but the rest of the time, young Lucien spent his days playing alone, reading and making potions. The elder Malfoys appeared to always have been busy with something or other, and spent little quality time with Lucien. Harry wondered if Draco had also been raised more by the Malfoy house elves than by Lucius or Narcissa. 

"I entered Hogwarts in the September of 1952, and as you may have deduced, I was sorted into the Slytherin House." Harry could not get over how much young Lucien Malfoy resembled Draco Malfoy. Were it not for the boy's very long white blonde hair, they would look like the same person. 

The present day Lucien's expression turned sad. "This was also the year I was cast out of the Malfoy clan. Disowned." 

"But why were you disowned?" Harry asked.

* * *

As if in response, the pensieve's image of Lucien Snape at the welcoming feast with the other Slytherin first years morphed into a Wintry scene at Malfoy Manor. 

"Are you sure your parents won't be angry?" A girl with dark skin and very curly hair asked as she followed Lucien up the walkway to Malfoy Manor. 

"Not at all, LeShunya," the child Lucien replied, taking the girl's hand and leading her up the stairs. 

The ghost Lucien elaborated. "LeShunya was a muggle born witch of African Ancestry. Although she had been sorted into Gryffindor house, I became friends with her shortly after meeting her in herbology class." Harry watched as the Malfoys appeared shocked upon meeting Lucien's new friend, but were accommodating, and quickly invited the dark skinned witch to join them at the table. "My parents later made their disapproval of our friendship known. Not only was LeShunya a Gryffindor, she was also muggleborn." The ghost Lucien watched his former self argue his case against Lucifer Malfoy, his father. 

"But father!" the child Lucien protested. "Why can I not be friends with LeShunya? While she is muggle born, she knows more about magical creatures than some of the pureblooded children do." 

"Lucien!" Lucifer Malfoy shouted. "She might be a witch, but both her parents are muggles. If you have children with her..." 

"Have children? With a girl? Ewwww!" the young Lucien cringed, prompting Harry to giggle slightly to himself. Harry had felt the same way about girls when he was eleven. 

Lucifer smacked his pale son across his cheek. 

"Owwwwww!" Lucien sniffled. "Why did you do that?" 

"I am being very serious, child." Lucifer grasped both of Lucien's shoulders and shook him roughly as he spoke. "We are not to consort with their kind! You may have no sexual desires thus far, but when you do, you are not to be fouling the Malfoy bloodline with halfblooded whelps. You'll be lucky if your child has magical powers as you do, but making a child with a muggleborn increases the likelihood that your child will be born with no magical abilities. We will not tolerate a SQUIB Malfoy heir!" 

"Yes father..." Lucien said, looking somewhat dazed from his father's stout shaking.

* * *

"I continued my friendship with LeShunya in secret, as did John Potter, my other best friend." the ghost Lucien went on, as the image of Lucien, LeShunya and some one who vaguely resembled Harry perusing muggle books floated above the Pensieve's surface. "There were so many things we learned about the muggle world from her." 

"Grandfather, sorry to interrupt." Harry said, motioning to John Potter, his biological grandfather, who was wearing green robes like Lucien. "Your friend, John Potter. He was a Slytherin? Like you?" 

"He certainly was. He slept in the four-poster next to mine in the dorms as a matter of a fact." The Pensieve then showed the vista from the Astronomy tower. Lucien, LeShunya, John Potter and a few other first years were looking over the grounds, watching the sun as it set. Once the sun disappeared below the horizon, the other first years lost interest and headed back to their dorms. LeShunya and Lucien remained. 

"How different are muggleborns really from wizard folk?" Lucien asked. 

"What do you mean?" 

"Wizard folk and Muggle folk have always lived apart." the boy Lucien continued. "Are you different somehow? Anatomically?" 

"I'm not sure?" said LeShunya. "I've never seen any pictures showing the differences between wizards and muggles." 

"Me neither." Lucien went on.

* * *

The ghost Lucien once more elaborated. "The 1950s were a very conservative era. Even our wizarding texts taught us little about our bodies. From what I understand, Muggle texts taught equally as little. All we did was a little harmless exploration of our differences. There was nothing sexual about it, but one of the Professors happened upon us then, and drew his own conclusions." 

Harry jumped back at the next scene, which showed a very angry Lucifer Malfoy beating a terrified Lucien in one of the empty classrooms of Hogwarts. Evidently, the school had notified him of his son's 'transgressions.' 

"But father!" Lucien shouted, wincing from another blow dealt him by his livid father. "We weren't doing anything subversive! I was just curious that is all!" 

"Then why did you not 'explore' one of the pureblooded witches from your own house?" shouted Lucifer. 

"I wasn't looking only because she was a girl! And all the girls in Slytherin are purebloods like us!" Lucien was sobbing from the pain of being lifted by a handful of his long white hair. "I was only wondering if muggles were anatomically just like us." 

"THEY ARE!" Lucifer threw Lucien to the floor, produced a leather strap, and beat the child mercilessly. "Right down to the naughty bits! If you want to see for yourself, I'll take you along with me next holiday when we raid another muggle house. I'll strip both the man and the woman of the house to prove to you that we are anatomically the same." 

Lucien lay sobbing on the stone floor, rubbing the stinging area of his head where his hair had been pulled, while attempting to shield his backside from more lashes. "Then why do we treat them like animals?! If they are like us, the same species, then why must we separate ourselves from them?"

* * *

The ghost Lucien sighed. "My father refused to believe that I had done nothing inappropriate with LeShunya. My arguing so strongly for muggleborns further convinced my father of my guilt. He told me I was no longer fit to be the Malfoy heir, for I had too high a tolerance for muggles and muggleborns and could jeopardize the purity of the bloodline." 

Lucien leaned his ghostly form against the wall behind him. "Father took me back to Malfoy Manor for one last time. I was disowned that very night. Although I was innocent, and had no desires of that sort yet, father believed I had committed a sexual act with LeShunya."

* * *

Harry gasped at the sight of Lucifer roughly cutting off young Lucien's long hair, while the elegant mother of Lucien wept helplessly. She obviously did not agree with her husband's decision to cast out their only child. "You have shamed this family, Lucien! You could have experimented with any girl from your own house, but you took it upon yourself to select a muggleborn." 

"But father! I didn't do THAT! I'm still pure! I've done nothing sexual. Have a mediwizard examine me, or use Veritaserum, you'll see that I am being truthful." Lucien whimpered as his long white hair, a badge of his being a part of the Malfoy family fell to the floor in clumps. "I swear it!" 

But Lucifer Malfoy was all but deaf to his son's entreaties, and continued to harshly chop off his son's hair with a sharp dagger. When he was done, Lucien looked very much like Draco would without his haughty sneer. "One more thing," Lucifer handed Lucien a phial. Mrs. Malfoy began sobbing uncontrollably. "Drink this." 

"What is it father?" 

"As you will no longer be a part of this family, we cannot allow you the potential to produce bastard children." Lucifer replied. "It is an Antispermatogenesis potion. You'll still mature normally, and you'll look and function as a normal wizard when you reach adulthood. But you will be infertile." 

"I can never have children of my own?" 

"Never! Now drink the potion!" Lucifer commanded, pointing a wand threateningly at Lucien.

* * *

"So you could not father any children, even if you wanted to?" Harry asked. 

"No," the ghost Lucien replied. "That is partially why I later agreed to raise Severus as my own." The Pensieve showed a very ramshackle dwelling which looked not too unlike the burrow. "I was sent to live with an Aunt for the rest of my formative years. I did not mind the arrangement much, for my Aunt was kind; and your grandmother's family, the Rogues, were our neighbours. Although Mervidith was a few years my junior, she was mature for her age, and was a wonderful companion. And a loyal friend." The image showed Mervidith and Lucien gathering herbs in a field. "I had never had many close companions whilst I was growing up, so having a friend so close by, was welcome indeed." 

Harry smiled at the sight of Mervidith putting wildflowers in Lucien's hair as he dozed beneath a shady tree. Although his hair had been cropped very short when he was disowned, his hair now reached his shoulders, indicating to Harry that many months must have passed. Harry began laughing fully when young Lucien woke up to find his white hair looking like a floral table centerpiece.

* * *

"MERVIDITH!" Lucien shouted in mock anger. 

"Goodbye, Lucien!" Mervidith taunted, breaking into a run. Her long, raven red, hair flew behind her as she sped away from Lucien. Harry was surprised at how fast the girl, who would one day be his grandmother, could sprint. She could easily qualify for any school track team, and leave their more seasoned runners trailing in the dust left by her shoes. Lucien could not run nearly as fast. Harry found it comical to watch the boy Lucien chasing after Mervidith, leaving a trail of flowers behind him as they fell out of his hair.

* * *

"One day in the following Summer," the ghost Lucien said as the scene in the Pensieve changed to show the face of the elegant Malfoy matriarch, "my Mother paid me an unexpected visit." 

"Mother?" young Lucien asked while still enfolded in his mother's arms. "What brings you hither?" 

"Oh Lucien!" Lucinda Malfoy sobbed, not willing to release her son. "I miss you so much!" 

"I know that." Lucinda wept and motioned to the dilapidated house, which was now Lucien's residence. "I cannot bear the thought of you living in...this squalidness." 

"Please, do not cry for me, mother." Lucien hugged the blonde woman once more. "I am very content here. I may no longer have wealth, and I have had to get used to manual labour, but otherwise, I am quite happy." 

"Oh...you need not say such things to make me feel better." Lucinda mewled. 

Harry realized that the woman simply could not envision that life without wealth and leisure could still be sweet. "I wanted to give you these before you left, but your father had cut your hair too short..." The woman pulled a velvet bag out of her purse. "Your father forbade me from giving you money, but he did not tell me that I could not give you a means of retaining your wealth." 

"Mother, really there is no need..." 

"Please, take them." Lucinda withdrew a large ruby from the bag and transfigured it into a hair bead which she strung onto Lucien's hair. She did the same with the diamonds, sapphires, emeralds, charmed amethysts, and other precious stones. In all, Harry concluded Lucien must have had nearly a million galleons worth of precious stones in his white hair. 

"Mother, I do not wish to sound ungrateful, but I cannot be about with all these precious stones in my hair. I will be a target for..." 

Lucinda drew her wand and the stones changed to resemble beads made of wood and glass. "When you need money, you may sell a stone or two. If you prefer, you do not even need to wear them all the time. Just store them in a secure place. But please accept these, my son, I cannot bear the thought of you being left destitute."

* * *

"Arguing with my mother was a fruitless exercise," the ghost Lucien waved his hand over the side of his head, and five transfigured gems appeared, strung on his hair. Harry noticed that there was one of each type of stone. "So I accepted the gift. However, that was not the only reason my mother had come visiting."

* * *

"I need your help, Lucien..." Lucinda Malfoy's image floated out of the Pensieve, her voice echoing softly in the room. 

"Anything, what is it that you need?" The boy Lucien asked. 

"Your father, he said that if I don't bear him another heir," Lucinda paled even more than she already was, "he'll kill me!" 

"WHAT?" 

"He's been horrible trying to force me to conceive." Lucinda continued. "He's tried all the available potions, and every month, no heir." 

"But what can I do?" young Lucien asked. 

"I have consulted a seer, and he said that you're destined to be one of the greatest potion masters in the UK. You may not have developed a potion that will help a woman conceive yet, but..." Lucinda pulled what appeared to be an enchanted calendar from inside her robes, "...you will in the future." 

"I don't understand." 

"Lucien, you do know what this is do you not?" 

"A time altering device of some sort?" Lucien speculated. 

"Exactly." Lucinda nodded. "I know this is much to ask of you, but I desperately need your help. Use the Leapyear to travel to the future, find your future self and explain the situation. Ask him for the best fertility potions he has developed." 

"And what if my future self hasn't developed a suitable treatment?" 

"Then use the Leapyear to go even further ahead in time," Lucinda explained. "Perhaps even to a time that your future self is retired, I have faith in you. You will have developed a treatment I could use." 

"And what if I died before I developed such a treatmen..." The rest of Lucien's response was halted by a sharp slap. 

"I'll not hear of you dying!" Lucinda said firmly. "No mother wants to think of their offspring dying prematurely! I love you Lucien! I'll always be your mother. Even if we are no longer recognized as mother and son legally. You'll always be my son." 

"Very well mother." Lucien acquiesced. "Now show me how to use the Leapyear."

* * *

Lucien looked down at Harry, and saw him looking not at the Pensieve, but directly into Lucien's eyes. "And then what happened, Granddad?" 

"I selected a year well into the new millennium, and was puzzled that I could not find myself at all in that time. I did not know then that I would have died in 1979, after all." said Lucien. "Confused, I used a function on the Leapyear that would not only allow me to jump to another time, but to another time on a different plane altogether. And eventually I did find an incarnation of myself." 

Harry gaped at the sight in the pensieve. Young Lucien was standing opposite an elderly and dour looking Lucien...who was dressed in muggle laboratory gear. "My alternate self knew why I had come and introduced me to the study of eugenics and human cloning." The ghost Lucien smiled deviously. "So instead of bringing a potion which would help my mother conceive ANOTHER child, my alternate self combined muggle science with the magic he still possessed, and concocted a potion which would cause my mother to become pregnant with an exact copy of me. The only alteration to the copy we've made was in his colouration. My future self altered the clone's genetic code so that his hair would be more a golden blonde similar to my mother's, and his eyes would greyer, like my father's. My parents would have become suspicious if their new baby looked exactly like me, after all." 

"So Lucius Malfoy is...?" Harry inferred. 

"Yes, he is my clone!" Lucien grinned. "He is genetically identical to me save for slight changes to his colouration. So, despite their casting me out, my blood still runs true in the Malfoy clan. I know Lucius was raised from the very beginning to harbour more hatred toward the muggles and muggleborns, then I ever was. But he should be able to tell right from wrong. If Lucius won't yearn for change, then any child he engenders surely will, if only in passing though..." Lucien paused. "Harry, does Lucius have any offspring?" 

"He's got a son." Harry replied, suppressing any ill feelings as best he could toward his arch rival Draco. Draco, did after all have Lucien Malfoy's blood. "The boy is in my year, his name is Draco Malfoy. Father is his godfather in fact." 

"Draco..." Lucien smiled smugly, looking so much like Draco at that moment that Harry flinched. "I would so love to see him. He is the closest thing to a biological son that I'll ever have. Genetically, he is my son." 

"In a few hours, when I can use my magic again," Harry offered, realizing that his growing love for his Grandfather was far greater than his enmity for Draco Malfoy. "I could put one of my memories in the Pensieve so that you can see what Draco looks like if you want?" 

"It would please me greatly." Lucien smiled. 

Harry was thankful that he had visited Draco as Harry Snape and not Harry Potter. Otherwise, he would have no memories where Draco wasn't sneering, making snide remarks, drawling condescendingly or outright harassing him. 

Harry did not want grandfather to find out just how dreadful the relationship between his biological son and grandson really was. 

"Even though Severus and I share no blood," Lucien waved his hand over the surface of the Pensieve once more, "he is as much my son, as you are his." 

End Chapter Thirty-Four 


	35. We Are Snapes

**Remembrance and Renewal** by **Nigel Tatsuya** and **Avatar Arkmage **  
Chapter Thirty-Five: **We Are Snapes**

"Even though Severus and I share no blood," Lucien waved a hand over the crystalline surface of the Pensieve once more, "he is as much my son, as you are his."

Lucien gently brushed a few strands of his son's obsidian hair aside and felt his forehead.

"Is he all right? Does he still have a fever?" Harry took one of Severus's hands in his own, and felt the answer for himself at roughly the same time that Lucien answered.

"No, Harry. I daresay his temperature is nearly back to normal." The translucent entity exhaled a ghostly breath of relief, then sank to the floor once more. "Did I not tell you that your father was an obstinate man?"

"Uh huh. And you were right! Even though there isn't supposed to be a cure for hemo-raging fever, Father fought it with only a little help from us." Harry found new reasons to feel proud of his father almost every day. "He's not even bleeding as much anymore."

"He has the figurative upper hand at the moment." Lucien floated to a seated position before the pensieve on the floor.

"Isn't our talking going to disturb him though, Granddad?"

"Not likely. The Immunoenhancer potion we've brewed him, also contains a powerful sleep inducer." Lucien replied. "Usually when we treat serious illnesses, it is a common practice to sedate the patient so they expend no unnecessary energy."

Harry stood once more and did the 'silly dance' in front of Severus. At receiving no response, he resumed his place at his grandfather's side.

(Deleted scene A- see our new deleted scene section to read it)

"So what happened next grandfather?"

"The rest of this story is a lengthy one." said Lucien. "It is late now, Harry. I will tell you anything else you wish to know in the morning, if you so desire. You ought to rest now."

Lucien fully expected to hear words of protest from the young boy, but Harry only leaned into him more heavily.

"Okay, granddad. That is one of the bad things about being a little kid actually." Harry yawned. "I get tired after only a few hours. I've been forcing myself to stay awake for a while now." Harry's green eyes widened fully. "Oh I wonder if I can use my magic again?"

"Anxious to resume being a teenager?"

Memories of a life that seemed not unlike a fading nightmare, fell on Harry in torrents. The expectations, the duties, the stress, the heartbreak, the loneliness, accompanied by the physical changes of adolescence all competed for precedence in his mind. "I-I think I'll wait until father is well again, I might give him a fright if he wakes up and sees me as a teenager."

Lucien nodded.

"I'll be back, granddad. I have to go back to Snape Manor Two to get my pajamas and my wand."

"But the wards."

"That will be the test," Harry called back as he ran. "If I can make it safely through the wards and back, that will mean I can use my magics again."

"And if your body is not yet cleared of the potion?"

"I think I'll only be a little sore." Harry decided to go before self-doubt set in. "It should be almost gone now, shouldn't it?"

Lucien faded out and reappeared near the main entrance, looking quite apprehensive. It was a relief when Harry exited the mansion, turned around and waved, indicating that he was fine.

Harry returned shortly thereafter, holding a light, turquoise union suit pyjama set with tiny white owls printed on the fabric. In his other hand, he held what appeared to be muggle toiletries. "Er...granddad? I uh haven't had a bath today..."

"The baths still function here in Snape Manor One." Lucien motioned to the nearest one. "You may use it..."

Harry held up his bandaged hand. "Can you help me grandfather? Please? I don't know how to wash myself with only one hand, so I'll probably have to use both hands, but the one with the glass cuts will hurt."

Lucien bathed Harry with a proficiency which indicated he had given quite a few baths before. Not even the slightest measure of soap or shampoo dripped into Harry's eyes.

Harry thought it very strange that Lucien did not need to roll up his sleeves for the task. Perhaps ghosts cannot roll up their sleeves at all? Harry finally inquired about it as Lucien gently scrubbed his back.

"It is partially because I am a spirit, but also because I am an illusion." Lucien explained. "The magic I had in my body whilst I was living, is now bonded to my soul. Without that bonding, I'd be like most other spirits; unable to interact with the living, invisible, without form, unable to affect things in the immediate environment. I use my magical core to create form, and to project this image of how I used to appear."

"You can look differently than you do now?" Harry asked.

"Yes." The ghost turned into an amorphous mass, then back again. "I use this form, because it is the one I am most accustomed to. It is familiar. And since I looked like this when I died, my spirit remembers this form well. Although, something as simple as rolling up my sleeves can be difficult." Lucien pulled up his sleeve, and Harry could see right away that Lucien struggled to compensate for the change in his appearance. First he appeared to have nothing at all under his sleeve; then a spectral arm appeared, but it flickered as though it were a holographic projection. Lucien concentrated further, and finally a ghostly white arm took shape. "You see Harry, enjoy rolling up your sleeves in life, because it is a somewhat difficult feat to accomplish in death."

"Oops!" Harry exclaimed when he accidentally dropped one of the larger wooden bath toys in the water, thereby splashing his grandsire's clothes. "Sorry, granddad!"

Oddly, Lucien's clothes still appeared perfectly dry. "It's quite all right, Harry. Severus used to soak me quite thoroughly when he was a little boy..." Lucien began shivering at his memories again "...those times I didn't attempt to drown him, that is..." Harry knew Lucien had not only tried to drown Severus before, but had also burned him with hot bath water. Harry found it difficult to believe the kind ghost giving him a bath now, and the cruel man who had terrorized his father during his childhood was one in the same.

While Harry was still wrapped only in a towel, Lucien took Harry's wounded hand in his own. "Now that you can tolerate magic again, would you like me to heal those glass cuts, or do you just want me to dress them?"

"Heal me? Please?"

"Potion or spell?"

"I can't decide?" Harry said.

"Then let it be both." Lucien summoned a jar containing a purple-tinged ointment, which he gently rubbed into Harry's cuts. He then waved a hand over Harry's palm and muttered an incantation. The magic which flowed from Lucien's hand seemed to merge with the purple ointment, causing Harry's wounds to glow momentarily. The sensation was very pleasurable. When the glowing faded, so did the wounds.

"You'll have to teach me that one, Grandfather." Harry marvelled at his now blemish free hand.

Because Harry did not want to sleep alone, Lucien moved the still unconscious Severus into one of the larger bedrooms which contained two four poster beds within. He carefully washed the drying blood from Severus's body in the small adjoining bath, frowning at just how emaciated his son appeared. Severus had always been thin before, but his recent bout with haemorrhagic fever had only made matters worse.

Although the linens were already immaculate, Rastus placed a cleaner, more absorbent set of linens on the beds before Lucien placed Severus on one of them. Severus was no longer bleeding as much as before, so Lucien retrieved one of the nightshirts he had worn while he was still living and pulled it onto his son. The nightshirt was quite large on Severus's lithe frame, for Lucien had been a taller, and more broad-shouldered man, while he lived. Even as a ghost, he was still roughly half a head taller than his son.

Harry walked into the bedroom, carrying Lucien's pensieve.

"The real reason I went to get my wand..." Harry pulled a silvery strand from his own head and placed it into the pensieve. "Here is Draco Malfoy, granddad."

"Thank you, Harry." Lucien floated the Pensieve over to a desk in the corner of the room and 'sat' on the chair. "Now rest, dear child. There will be so much more to talk about in the morning."

Harry nestled his head on the sueded cotton covered down pillow, still watching his grandfather seated at the desk. Over and over, images of a pale, white-blond haired boy sipping from a muggle canister, tousling Harry's hair, Harry retaliating playfully and the two boys just eating muggle sweets played above the stone bowl. Because Lucien required no sleep, Harry knew his grandfather would watch the memory of Draco for the better part of the night.

Just before Harry sank into a deep sleep, his eyes sprang open once more. Because Lucius is Lucien's clone and therefore has identical genes, that would make Draco as much Lucien's biological son as he was Lucius's...and because Lucien was Harry's adopted grandfather that meant... Draco was technically HARRY's UNCLE?!?!?!

Harry would never be sure if he fell asleep then, or passed out from shock.

* * *

Ron sat next to the little girl, who lay upon the very bed which he had slept in whilst he was toddler. With so many children, the Weasleys had had to reuse many of the meagre items in their house. This very bed, equipped with magical wards to keep very young children from falling out of it, had been used by roughly all the Weasley children at one time or another in the past.

Only Ginny had not had to share this bed, for she had been the first girl born in seven generations to a seventh son, and was fawned over by the friends and relatives of the Weasley family. She had been given better things that Ron, or any of her brothers had ever received, Ron even considered her to be indulged at times, but dutifully kept his envy in check, for no one would tolerate anything against Ginny.

Samsonite did not seem to mind the condition of the seventh-handed bed a bit.

Ron moved his face onto the child's belly and nuzzled it relentlessly. The girl squirmed and tried to escape from Ron, but was soon giggling uncontrollably.

"Leave off, Ron!" the red-headed toddler laughed. "I'll tell Uncle Afa on you!"

"His name is Arthur." Ginny Weasley said as she appeared in the doorway. "Come on, Ron leave her alone. We have to let her sleep. She's just a baby, after all."

"Whoah! You'd better not hang around with Hermione any more, Ginny! You're starting to sound as bossy as her!" Ron said with mock chagrin on his face. "But I guess you're right." Ron put one of his old Chudley Cannons plush dolls into the foundling's arms. Having had so little while he was growing up, Ron rarely shared any of his possessions willingly. He had concluded however, that little Samsonite would put the plush toy to better use than he would. "Good night, Sam." Ron kissed the little child on the head.

"Why on Earth do you call her 'Sam?'" Ginny inquired as she and Ron headed up the stairs together.

"I think it's her name?" Ron shrugged. "The name 'Samsonite' was written all over her suitcases and stuff."

Just before Ginny closed the door to her room, she saw Arthur and Molly scuttling back into the little foundling's room for the third time that evening. She rolled her eyes in a very Hermione-esque fashion before shutting the door. Although it was a refreshing change to no longer be the youngest child in the Weasley household, or to bear the title of the only girl in seven generations to be born to a seventh son, Ginny had not expected to utterly fade into the background with the arrival of the new toddler.

She paused and looked up in the direction of Ron's high bedroom and immediately began to rethink her budding jealousy. Was this how it had been for Ron when Ginny was born? Granted, he was only the youngest child for less than a year and may not have remembered being such...but still...

The older couple approached Samsonite as quietly as they could, yet could not help waking her. The little girl had been moved into the room next to Molly and Arthur's, which had served as the nursery for all seven of their natural children in its time. Because they thought the room would go unused after Ginny aged out of it, Molly and Arthur converted it into a storage room for items they did not need every day. Because the room was so small, and was made even smaller by the crates storing unused items, Arthur accidentally upset one of them with his elbow. The little girl opened her brownish-green eyes in surprise.

"Sorry!" Arthur hastily righted the crate.

"Just checking up on you, dear." Molly Weasley crooned to the young girl.

Samsonite grinned, in turn, at both of them.

"Sleep well, Samsonite!" Arthur said, kissing the girl on the forehead. "If you need us, you know where our bed chambers are."

The little redheaded girl barely responded. Between Fred, George, Percy, Ron, and Mr and Mrs Weasley, their attentions over the course of the day, were enough to tire her out thoroughly. Even Ginny's infrequent visits added to it.

Once back in the hallway, Molly turned to Arthur. "Do you suppose she has the ability to use magic? Even though she's from the muggle world and all?"

"Why would you think that?"

"She's survived the explosions at the train station at Hogsteadder." Molly leaned closer to Arthur. "From what I understand, not many of the others did. Not even the adults."

Arthur yawned and lead his wife into their bedchambers, "We can think on this more later, I'm tired, Molly dear."

* * *

Draco Malfoy had been navigating the streets of London for a considerable portion of the day. He did not know how to ride those muggle vehicles, which resembled the knight bus with one of its levels sheered off, as the vehicles did not come to proper stops to allow a partly crippled boy like him on. And he had no idea how to ask directions of the people on the street, as many did not know about barriers into the magical world, and those he did whisper it to, thought him insane.

He had rarely traveled anywhere alone. Either Lucius or Narcissa had always ventured into town with him. Draco only wished he had payed more attention.

He had better luck with cars, save for the fact that three had almost run him over whilst he attempted to get them to stop for him. Draco still managed to hitch a ride with a few muggle drivers, but since he did not know how to describe the way from London to Malfoy Manor,they just too Draco to their own destinations and let him off then. What little directions he managed to give were so poor, that the muggles just took him around the city in circles before letting him off again in exasperation.

One driver seemed to enjoy talking to Draco about something called the stock market. The topic left Draco very unnerved, since he thought cruel and unusual punishments, like the stocks and the ducking stool, were dispensed with in both the magical and muggle worlds quite some time ago. By the time the driver let him off, Draco was convinced that Nikkei, Wall Street and Dow Jones were the names of violent muggle inquisitors, and made a mental note to avoid them at all costs.

Still another muggle driver, a surly man with what resembled Death Eater brands on his broad shoulders, had a strange custom of groping Draco as he drove. Not wanting to chance angering the man, Draco asked to be let out of the car as politely as he could. But the man would not stop. When the man put his hand in a place Draco absolutely did not want handled, at least not by the man, Draco involuntarily blasted him out of the car.

"Molestererer!" Draco shouted at him, remembering the term he had heard from Harry Snape.

Moments later, Draco was really panicking, for no one had showed him how to operate a muggle vehicle before, and he hadn't been paying a whole lot of attention to the muggle drivers. Worst of all, he had no idea how to stop. He tried fiddling with the buttons and levers in the car, as well as the pedals on the floor. One of the buttons in the car, caused very loud music to start playing, while another switch made the car so hot that Draco concluded it was a means of killing thieves who tried to steal the car. One of the foot pedals made the car go so fast, that pedestrians on the pavement had to scurry out of the way to avoid being hit. Draco figured that the other pedal would probably make the car run slower, and since he was going very fast, he stomped the pedal all the way to the floor. Draco ended up kissing the steering wheel when he slammed into it.

Draco soon became aware of the wailing tones of sirens coming from somewhere behind him. In the rear view mirror, he saw two patrol cars encroaching. As much as he wanted to slow down to better admire the flashing lights, and the exciting sound of the siren, he knew from what he had learned from dramas on the telly that these were muggle police. And he panicked. Why were they pursuing him? He hadn't committed a crime had he?

A chase, which could easily put a medium-budget police movie to shame, ensued. Although Draco did not know exactly how to operate muggle vehicles, he was a very determined youth, and learned real fast... at least how to manipulate the steering wheel to avoid crashing into things. He sped in a direction he thought would lead him back to Malfoy Manor. He had never tried getting there via Muggle transportation routes, but what better time than now to attempt it?

Draco was driving so fast, he was passing everyone on the road except for three buses of school children, for their drivers were going even faster than he was... if that were possible. To his dismay, the bobbies were keeping up with him and a police chopper joined the fray overhead.

Soon, many kilometres out of London, Draco found himself in familiar territory. Even at high velocity, Draco recognized the hillside and a centuries old Yew tree on the roadside ahead. He was quickly approaching the vicinity of Malfoy Manor.

"Pull over!" The police car behind him instructed over a device that amplified the officer's voices.

"I don't want to!" Draco drawled back, wishing there were a similar device in his vehicle.

Just when the chase was reaching a crescendo, Draco stomped on the brakes and skidded to just where the entrance gates to the Malfoy Estate would be found. As he hastily alighted, Draco's hospital slipper caught on the accelerator and lodged between the autoshift panel and the gas pedal, causing the car to move forward rapidly again.

One of the squad cars continued to give chase to the now driverless car, while the other pulled to a stop in front of Draco. The pale youth had never fallen from a car before, but he was far more afraid of being captured by the muggle law enforcers. If Azkaban was bad, how much worse must muggle prison be? Without dementors, muggles must surely employ executioners or something?

"Put your hands up!" A heavyset officer, who pointed a gun in Draco's direction, ordered. Draco obeyed, and held his hands high even as he raced through the magical barrier. He did not stop running until he was clear across the lawn of the Malfoy Estate, and on the steps of the grand manor itself. Exhausted, and sore both from falling from the car and from his not fully healed injuries, Draco turned back toward the lonely road fronting the Malfoy's property.

The wards around Malfoy Manor only allowed its occupants to see out. The confused officers outside the wards, saw nothing but a vast, empty pastureland. To them, Draco had simply vanished.

Draco sat on the front steps and sneered as one of the officers walked into the wards, then abruptly jumped back, looking as though he were deathly afraid of something. Anyone who attempted to cross the Malfoy's wards uninvited, saw horrifying images.

"What's wrong?" The other cop asked.

The officer, who had seen an image of his wife fighting with a brick house wife on the Jerry Springer show, was too shaken to answer.

The other cop took a few steps closer to the barrier and saw himself receiving an atomic wedgie. "Let's get out of here, something's not right about this place!"

High overhead, the chopper had captured the whole incident on videotape. It wasn't every day that Goth boy wannabes vanished into thin air.

Draco hobbled into Malfoy Manor once the muggle law enforcers were gone. He had never felt happier to be on the tiled vestibule of his home, than he was at the moment. As weak as he was, he had no choice but to revere those precious tiles, and he pitched forward onto the floor. He had hoped to collapse on his own bed, but Draco found that he had neither the energy nor the will to do so. He just lay there, alone...

Draco wondered if the car, which had his slipper lodged upon the accelerator, was still running...or if it had crashed into anything. If the runaway car did crash into something, Draco hoped it was Potter's skinny bum. Better yet, he hoped it crashed into Potter's bum AND then into Lord Voldemort's bum as well. It would serve the m both right.

"Young Master Draco!" one of the senior house elves called to the fallen boy. "Where has Master Draco been? And what has happened to Master Draco's hair?"

"It's black." Was all Draco muttered as more elves arrived in the vestibule to render aid.

* * *

"So what happened next, grandfather?" Harry asked, the next morning after breakfast. This time, Harry sat beside his still unconscious father as Lucien floated before them with the pensieve held aloft just above his spectral hands. "Will you explain more to me about how James and father are related? I'm not sure I truly understand yet..."

"I will try to explain the best that I am able. Be warned, Harry, some of this will be painful to watch. Not even I have been able to watch some of these memories in their entirety...but I will watch them with you so that you may ask your questions... "

* * *

Harry saw that the young Lucien Malfoy, who rose out of the pensieve, was now a young adult. He was relatively tall and still wore his white hair long, despite the pomade-slicked, shorter haircuts in fashion among young men of both the magical and the muggle world in the late 1950s. Lucien was dressed in University robes and carried a stack of tomes so large, it rivalled anything Harry had seen in Hermione's rucksack during their third year at Hogwarts.

"Malfoy!" came a voice somewhere beyond the field of vision allotted by the pensieve. "Malfoy!"

"Potter!" Lucien turned to face the young man who was sprinting from one of the other buildings nearby.

"How is married life?"

"Wonderful!" John Potter replied, stowing a few parchments in his own rucksack. Before securing it, he took out a comb and ran it through his heavily greased hair. "Would you like to come and stay with us over the Spring Holidays?"

"Really, Potter I thank you for the offer, but would your wife take favourably to an old school mate staying at your home? You've only been married a few months, after all. Don't you and your wife still need..." Lucien paused to clear his throat. "... time alone together?"

John Potter went red in the face and grinned nervously. He played with one of the zippers on his muggle-style leather jacket. "Oh we get plenty enough time as it is. I dare say I'm in need of a break from the...uh... routine. Mrs. Potter likes it quite often."

"You? John Potter having trouble keeping up? I would have thought you'd need more than one wife to satisfy your insatiable needs," said Lucien. "Very well then, I shall visit on my days off during the break, I still have my duties in the labs, after all."

"You mean you still have to work? Even during break?" John Potter whinged.

"I do not mind. Aside from my needing to earn a living now, I find my duties quite fulfilling."

* * *

"I went back to my Aunt's house frequently during the break and found that Mervidith, who was still a Hogwarts student at the time had also come home for the short recess rather than opting to stay at Hogwarts." Lucien leaned close to the image of Mervidith, who was now a young woman as he went on.

"We talked over tea about our lives in general. Our friends. Our futures. It surprised me little that Mervidith had become friends with students from all four houses, both magical and muggleborn alike."

"Grandmother was a really nice person wasn't she?" Harry asked, his eyes tearing up at seeing his beloved grandmother and being unable to have any further contact with her.

"Very much so." Lucien responded. "Perhaps nice even to a fault. She seemed to never fully understand that some people in the world harboured ill will towards others. She did not always seem to have a clear understanding of danger. I was very wary when she told me that she would be attending a sleepover at a muggleborn friend's house one night during the recess."

Lucien went silent for a while to listen to the little argument that took place in the pensieve. Harry watched his grandmother tell Lucien that he was worried over nothing, and that it was just a harmless sleepover in a reputable muggle neighbourhood.

"I was worried just the same, and ventured over to her friend's house that night..."

* * *

In the pensieve, Lucien stole onto the property and made his way over to the modest sized house where Mervidith would be spending the night with her muggleborn friends. Not daring to use any magic on that quiet street, Lucien proceeded, using only stealth under the cover of darkness. He peered through the house's windows at random until he found the second story window to the girl's bedroom where Mervidith and her friends were. Harry marvelled at just how agile young adult Lucien was. Using the rain gutter, Lucien scaled the house and hung from the windowpanes as he looked in.

Lucien only saw what anyone would expect to see at a typical girl's slumber party in 1959. The girls were all dressed in night gowns with strange furry snake-like things around their necks. The girls were either barefoot, or else they wore what looked like small, furry animals on their feet. Lucien wondered if muggles were so morbid as to insert their feet into the backs of slaughtered animals, before realizing the creatures were artificial.

What Lucien could not understand, was why the girls all had their beautiful hair wrapped around metallic cylindrical objects. Even stranger still, two of the girls had what appeared to be caldron residue painted on their faces. Perhaps muggles had a strange sense of aesthetic beauty. Either that, or because muggles were so violent, they lived in fear of ruffians invading their homes; and Lucien concluded that the girls with the painted faces were meant to scare any intruders away. If one of the girls with the painted faces were to jump in front of Lucien, he would be startled as well.

Mervidith and one of her friends were seated on a bed, sipping cocoa and painting their fingernails. Another girl was dancing in front of a muggle music maker machine which played songs from a black disc like object. Two other girls were giggling in the corner of the large room reading something. The younger Lucien's eyes went wide in surprise. The girls appeared to be reading a magazine with motionless, though obscene pictures of men flexing their muscles whilst wearing only their underwear. And very tight underwear at that! Lucien stared aghast at the sight of the mugglemen's underwear...it showed the shapes of their...of their...

Lucien's hand slipped off the windowsill, causing him to fall into the bushes beneath. He quickly got up; and finding nowhere suitable to hide without apparating, crawled into the family's doghouse... it was most unfortunate that the dog was still in the house. Seconds later, some one Harry assumed to be the muggleborn girl's father came storming into the yard to see what the noise was about. Lucien wrestled the dog down, and held its snout closed until the man shrugged and went back into the house. After arguing unsuccessfully with the dog in an effort to stop it from yammering at him for invading its space, Lucien sprinted all the way back to his Aunt's house.

* * *

"I was relieved that my fears were evidently unfounded." said Lucien. "I returned to the University and brewed some potions my supervisor had requested."

The image of the muggle house floated above the Pensieve again. "Before I retired for the night, I decided to check on your grandmother once more. I don't know why I felt the need to do so, but I am grateful I did."

"Was that the night..?" Harry could not finish.

Lucien stared at the pensieve for a while before answering. "One of the reasons I feared for Mervidith's safety, was because of attacks on muggles by seditious wizard gangs. The Death Eaters were not fully organized at the time, but there were many gangs of pureblooded wizards who attacked muggles and wizards who fraternized with them, for sport..."

* * *

Flashes of light could be seen from within the house. Unsure if he were merely seeing a new form of incandescent lighting or something more menacing, Lucien crept up to one of the lower windows of the house and peered in.

"Mervvie!" Lucien cried, and charged into the nearest door. The dead bodies of Mervidith's friends were strewn about the bedroom. Mervidith's muggleborn witch friend, lay motionless in the hall. Her cornflower-blue eyes were wide with fear; and the wand still in her cyanotic hands, looked to he held at the ready... She hadn't had the chance to fire off a single spell. The woman of the house lay on the stairs, a trickle of blood running from her light brown haired head.

The man of the house had faired no better, and lay slumped against the wall, looking as though his neck had been snapped.

Lucien then heard a series of soft cries coming from the parlour. Hoping to find that Mervidith had at least survived the carnage, he charged through the doors.

"This is what witches like you get for associating with the filthy muggles!" One of the wizards restraining the figure on the floor spat. "I believe I shall take another turn next!"

"No!" Mervidith shrieked, her voice hoarse both from exhaustion and from screaming. She struggled unusually feebly against the men holding her down, while another callously pleasured himself.

"To think we were prepared to defile ourselves with those filthy, disease laden muggle girls." another wizard said, grasping Mervidith's face and forcing her to look at him. "It was ever a surprise to find a pureblooded girl amongst them. And a most beguiling girl at that." The wizard turned to the others and smiled scornfully. "A little pleasure reward for our efforts, eh?"

"Who would have guessed!" a wizard caressing one of her thighs sneered. "A young witch from the Rogue clan! Mervidith Rogue! A double prize."

"Please." Mervidith groaned as the wizard pleasuring himself quickened his pace as he neared release. "No more...no more!"

"Leave her be!" Lucien thundered, picking up a baseball bat from a nearby display case and smashing the skull of one of the wizard men. A second drew his wand, but Lucien brought the bat firmly into the man's hands, breaking the wand and a few of his fingers.

The other wizards, seeing just how bloodthirsty Lucien appeared to be, fled as though Beelzebub himself were after them. Lucien managed to smash the shoulder blade of another wizard as he fled. The unruly haired man who had last assaulted Mervidith, could not flee as quickly, for he was attempting to hitch up his trousers beneath his robes as he ran. Lucien took full advantage of the situation and tackled him, making sure to slam the wizard into the floor, using the maximum amount of unnecessary brutality.

"POTTER?!" Lucien screamed, half in disbelief, half in rage when he saw who it was.

"What of it?"

"How could you?" Lucien grabbed the boy's unruly hair and slammed his head against the hardwood floor repeatedly. "You of all people! You have a wife! YOU HAVE A WIFE!! You could have had any of the girls at Hogwarts! You could have had any girl in the University, they would take their pleasure with you willingly! Yet you take Mervidith Rogue by force?! How could you have so demoralized yourself?"

Potter never answered Lucien. He had died of his own head injuries long before Lucien had finally stopped ramming his head against the floor.

Lucien threw Potter down in disgust, stomped on his abdomen twice, and dealt him a bone crushing kick before returning to Mervidith. She had not moved from the position the assailants had left her. She was far too weak. Lucien removed his outer robes and covered the violated girl.

"Lucien... Thanks." Mervidith could barely look her longtime friend in the eye.

"Mervvie, we need to take you to a hospital." said Lucien.

"No!" the dark haired girl protested, her face contorted in pain. "I don't want anyone to know about this."

"Then allow me, at the very least, to assist you..." As gently as he could, Lucien attempted to help Mervidith up.

"Uaaagh!" she exclaimed, fending off Lucien's hands. "It hurts."

"You're injured." Lucien began searching his pockets for a healing potion. "Here, it isn't a very powerful potion, but it will help with the pain." He raised Mervidith's head slightly and poured the potion into her mouth.

"Thank you." She said, still unable to meet his eyes. "I have no strength...feel so weak. I tried to fight...I tried...but I still could not save the muggles...I'm supposedly a good dueler...but not when it matters...I couldn't even fight, or disarm more than three of them..."

"There were too many of them from the appearance of it. I'll not hear you berating yourself for not defeating them all. Those degenerates were older, and more seasoned wizards. It was all of their magics against yours. You'll be a powerful witch someday, but you're not even out of school yet." Lucien carefully lifted his long time friend into his arms. She felt lighter than he expected her to be, and there appeared to be almost no magic left in her. "Curse them all for their cowardice!" The wizard vigilantes had obviously duelled against Mervidith until she was exhausted. Once her magic was spent, they used her.

She lost consciousness in Lucien's arms before he had even taken a few steps outside the perimeter.

"Forgive me, Mervidith." Lucien whispered into her ear. "I know you did not wish to receive medical attention." He raised his hand out from under her and found it to be smudged in blood and other fluids. "But I believe that the severity of your injuries exceeds what my healing potions alone can accomplish."

* * *

"After she was released from St. Mungos, your grandmother asked that I help her back to her home. Her parents were notified of the situation, but they seemed to be more angry that it happened than concerned for her comfort and well-being. No one from her family would even visit her while she was in the hospital, or collect her on the day she was released. I did my best to help her with strengthening and healing potions...what little she could take. She was so magically and physically weakened that she could neither eat, nor ingest many of the potions." Lucien lamented.

Harry watched sadly as his grandmother, dressed in Lucien's university robes, limped up the walkway to her home.

"Her own family did not believe that she had been raped, because the hospital reported that she her injuries were only superficial. Muggle girls who fell victims to the wizard gangs were often much more severely damaged or even killed. Because your grandmother was only magically spent and suffered relatively mild injuries, they would not rule it as rape. Everyone else blamed her for what had happened. Her family did not even stand by her when she was charged with violating the rules in place against underage wizardry." Fury gained control of the ghost's expression. "As soon as her parents found out she was pregnant, the Rogues disowned her."

The image of Mervidith Snape, cowering wearily on the front lawn of the Rogue Estate, floated above the pensieve.

"Begone, you witch of easy virtue! It repulses me that you're of my blood!" shouted some one Harry guessed to be Mervidith's father. The man had long dark hair with reddish brown highlights and a gaunt build. "I HAVE NO DAUGHTER! You are Mervidith Rogue no longer! You are a harlot!" The wizard pelted her with piles of clothing and other belongings. "Take your possessions and leave!"

Lucien dashed from the ramshackle house next door, and shielded Mervidith from a particularly large stack of tomes the Rogue matriarch hurled at her deposed daughter. The tomes struck him in the head and back, but the Rogues did a fine job of acting as though he was not there at all. "You are no longer part of this family!"

* * *

"So they really didn't care?!" Harry asked through his gritted teeth as he watched Lucien gathering Mervidith's things whilst still being pelted by objects. "If I were Mr. Rogue, I would have hunted all of those boys down and... and... well I don't know what I would have done, but it wouldn't have been very nice! And what? Did they think she would make something like that up? Why would anyone make up a story about being humiliated like that anyway?" Harry stood and looked as though he were about to start breaking objects in the room.

Lucien was taken aback by Harry's tirade. He had never realized that such a young boy could have a temper like that. Then he remembered that Harry wasn't a true little boy and had had years to build up his life experiences. "Harry, do you wish for me to stop for now?"

"Oh sorry," Harry resumed his place next to his father. "I got a little carried away. I lost my head for a bit... so and then what happened?"

"The Rogues disowned her completely. The stripped away her name, and erased every document of Mervidith Rogue's very existence. Even now, in the Magical World, you'll find no legal record that a Mervidith Rogue ever existed."

"Then...then who..."

Lucien exhaled deeply. "She became Eileen Prince. A pureblood, but one with no discernable ties to any of the old Wizarding families."

"Eileen Prince?" Harry repeated, looking crestfallen.

"But in my eyes, and in the eyes of those who still love her, defiled or not, she will always be Mervidith Rogue." A tear trickled down Lucien's cheek as he spoke. "Eileen Prince is only an empty name for a witch who never truly existed. Mervidith Rogue-Snape is your true grandmother."

In silence, Harry agreed heartily. "Did you get in trouble for killing John Potter?"

"No, it turned out that I hadn't killed John Potter after all."

* * *

"John!" young Lucien's legs went out from under him upon returning to his flat one night to find John Potter seated at his desk.

"What's the matter, Lucien? Scared of ghosts or the undead?" There was nothing but malice in John Potter's hazel eyes as he loomed over Lucien.

Lucien only stared at John with his almost colourless blue eyes. He did not know what to make of the situation. Was that a ghost? Had John Potter somehow survived? He was drawn from his reverie by a hard kick from John's patent leather shoe.

"I'm not dead!" John dove onto Lucien, and using his collar rammed him into the floor. "But you're still a murderer!"

Lucien easily wrapped his hands around John Potter's neck and turned him onto the floor. "And killing Muggles is also not murder?! You and your friends raided the muggle house that night and slaughtered all the people within, save one who wasn't muggleborn! And you know what you did to her!"

"I wasn't even there!"

"You LIE!"

"I do not care what you choose to believe, Lucien!" John growled. "You can just ruddy die!"

Lucien, who had both a height and weight advantage over John, scooted toward a nearby cupboard, dragging John Potter with him. Lucien continued to restrain John with own his body whilst rummaging through the cupboard.

"Gerroff me, you overgrown albino occamy!" John managed to free one hand and punch Lucien in the nose. "You overlarge snowy white..."

Without any changes to his expression, Lucien wiped his nose on his white sleeve, leaving a broad, scarlet stripe on it. He leaned on John again to still him as he withdrew a phial from the cupboard containing a clear potion.

"Veritaserum!!??" John screamed, struggling beneath Lucien's weight. "That's illegal! I'm going to report you! You'll be sent to Azkaban for the rest of your life! How did you get that?!"

"Brewed it myself." Lucien pressed down on John's forehead and uncapped the top of the phial which already had a dropper attachment on it. "If you weren't in the muggle house that night, then who was?" He put three drops onto John's tongue.

John Potter expectorated in Lucien's face in an attempt to expel the potion, but it was already taking effect. "That was my brother Jephthah Potter you saw...and killed!"

"I've been to your home during the summers before. I've not seen a Jephthah Potter." said Lucien.

"He exists! Or existed!" John went on to explain even without being asked. "When my brother made his unexpected appearance after I was born, my parents immediately contacted a seer." John hissed, sounding rather breathless due to Lucien's unrelenting grasp. "The seer said that the second twin was destined to be an exact opposite of me! He was going to be the evil one. We couldn't have that sort of disgrace upon our family, so we left Jephthah at a muggle orphanage whilst my parents raised me."

"So he has recently reunited with you?"

John bit his tongue in an effort to keep from answering, but the words poured from his mouth, as though propelled by a powerful emetic curse. "I knew about him since I was a tot. I went looking for him this year because I could not make my wife conceive a child, and we needed an heir."

"You're sterile, John?"

"I'm as sterile as you are, Lucien. Functional in every way, but just as sterile as you!" John replied, his expression growing even more vacant as the potion seized more control. "When you were cast out of the Malfoy family, I knew you were forced to take a potion to render you unable to engender children. We were best friends then, Lucien! Slytherins both of us! I would have gone through the fire with you! So I also took an Antispermatogenesis potion as well...if you would be denied a child, so would I."

"John! John...I..." Lucien slowly climbed off of John, who lay motionless on the floor, in the full control of the Veritaserum. "Why?!"

"I was just a stupid kid then. I didn't want you suffering alone." John replied. "We were best friends then! We were best friends, so if you hurt, so would I. We were best friends until you killed my brother! I hate you now!"

"So you brought your brother back into the magical world so that he could produce an heir with your wife?" Lucien asked.

"Yes." John replied. "But even after my wife conceived, Jephthah refused to return to the muggle world. He wanted to stay for the child, so I allowed him to stay, provided he remained hidden. No one could know the Potters had had two sons."

"Were you aware of what your brother was doing when you weren't monitoring his actions?"

"I knew he was getting acquainted with friends of the Potter family, and being reintroduced to the magical world slowly." John stated flatly. "He had a lot to learn. My parents took great pains that he would never find his way to the magical world. His Hogwarts letters, if any, would have been intercepted; and his magical abilities were suppressed by means of spells and potions cast on him at birth."

"Did you know he was going about with a group of hooligans?" Lucien grabbed John's collar again.

"Yes."

"Did you know they were maiming, and/or killing muggles?"

"They do that of their own volition." John responded. "I don't agree with what Jephthah and those extreme rebel wizard groups do, but I am not my brother's keeper."

"Are you aware that one of my close friends, Mervidith Rogue, or Eileen Prince as you probably know her now, was at that muggle house at the time?" Lucien clenched his teeth. "Did you even care that the wizard gang raped her?"

"She should have known better. She deserved it for associating so closely with the muggles..."

"No one deserves THAT!" Lucien slapped John across the face. "Would you say that if it happened to your mother? Your Aunt? Your cousins? Your friends? Or your wife?"

The slap apparently brought John Potter from the effects of the Veritaserum. "You killed my brother! My brother had white blond hair strands in his hand when they found him with a crushed skull. Those hairs are yours Lucien! I'm going to report you for murder."

"And I'll report you and your family for fratricide and infanticide respectively! Sending a perfectly healthy baby into the muggle world during wartime as an orphan, is no different than killing it!" Lucien silenced any further arguments from John by tightening his grasp around his neck, thereby cutting off his air supply. "Besides, how will you report the murder of some one who supposedly never existed? The group he was running with, they believe he was you, do they not?"

John, whose throat structures were hopelessly constricted at the moment, could only nod slightly.

"You would stand to lose everything if you reported this." Lucien said silkily, still not releasing the other man's neck. "Your family would lose their honour, that is if the authorities even believe that Jephthah Potter existed. And if they don't, the whole wizarding world will remember John Potter as a murderous and hateful member of a wizard gang...and one who had nothing against raping one of their own!" Lucien twisted the proverbial knife. "And your unborn child will be shamed even before it suckles at your wife's teat. The child will only know its father was a treacherous criminal!"

* * *

"Our friendship ended that day."

"So you and John never tried to make up?"

Lucien shook his head. "And when the paternity spell revealed that the child Mervidith was carrying was Jephthah Potter's, just as John's son was, the rift between us grew even more. I regret not coercing John into keeping his silence about Severus to James. The fight was between John and I, and should never have continued between James and Severus. Both James and Severus were innocents who had nothing to do with this..."

"Thank you..." Harry wrapped his arms around his ghostly grandfather.

"For what?"

"For taking care of grandmother and father. I know if Vold- Mouldyshorts hadn't hurt you, you'd have been the greatest husband and father ever to them." Harry said, enjoying being held by his granddad, even though his body did not feel like a proper body, but more like an energy field.

"How could I do any less? I could not leave Mervidith on her own, homeless, drained of all her magical energy, alone and pregnant. And much later, I could not let Severus grow up without a father's affections... I had been rejected by my own father, and was determined that Severus would not know that pain. " Lucien reminisced, as the Pensieve showed the image of him selling five of the precious stone hair beads. "With the proceeds, I bought the overgrown, run-down property that I commissioned magical landscapers to turn into the grounds of Snape Manor and builders to make the start of this very mansion."

* * *

Mervidith lay silently upon a modest, though comfortable appearing four poster bed in a room Harry recognized as the very one they were in at the moment. She appeared very tired, although whether her fatigue was caused by having spent much of her magical energy or from the pregnancy itself, Harry could not be sure. His grandmother wore a long, orange-red dress which matched the ember highlights in her long dark hair. Her stomach was still as flat as it had been in the last image, prompting Harry to conclude that not much time had passed.

"The abortifacient potion will be ready shortly." Lucien said softly.

"Thank you, Lucien." Mervidith replied, her expression very mixed. She looked torn between wanting to kill the infant which would carry her assailant's blood and keeping the child because it was innocent; at least, that was what Harry concluded.

Words appeared to fail Lucien as he held Mervidith's hand. She appeared so weak that she could barely grasp his hand in return. Lucien silently kissed her on her forehead before returning to the Spartan labs which Harry realized also served as the young couple's kitchen. It was nothing like the grand kitchens in the Manors of the present day.

He walked over to the small cauldron, where a green potion was simmering slowly. The pale man added some ground Queen Anne's lace from the pestle to the caldron, stirred it twice and sat in the chair next to the small dining room table to wait.

Lucien rested his chin in his hands. "The irony of it all," he whispered in the direction of the caldron. "I'll be halting the development of a rapist's child, a child which will likely remind Mervvie of that horrible night every time she looks upon its face. Yet..." Harry watched Lucien bite his trembling lower lip, in a manner very similar to way he Severus would later do. The eighteen year old Lucien rose quickly from his chair and returned to the caldron immediately, as though doing so as fast as possible would make the act he was about to do just a little easier.

Strangely, the surface of the green potion had stopped simmering, even though Lucien hadn't reduced the flames. It had taken on a strange appearance, resembling not a green potion, but a dark mirror. Had something gone wrong? Lucien cautiously peered into the caldron, and saw that the potion was still simmering, yet the effervescence did not reach the potion's surface.

"AAAH!" Lucien jumped back and immediately scanned the room. He had not only seen his own reflection on the surface of the potion, but the image of a little black-haired child next him. It seemed as though he were standing beside Lucien and was also looking into the caldron with interest. Lucien peered into the caldron once more, and saw that the ghostly toddler's face was still there, gazing back at him.

Harry immediately recognized the child's reflection to be that of a very young Severus Snape. The night-sky black eyes, the aquiline nose, and the angular face left no question in Harry's mind that he was indeed looking upon the image of his infant father. But there were marked differences to that face. Instead of the forlorn and terrified expression Harry remembered from his sojourn outside of time, this child Severus Snape was smiling and regarding his father-to-be with a look of wonderment and adoration.

Lucien reached for the image of the boy, still reflecting off the dark potion. Severus raised a tiny hand to meet Lucien's in return. The child Severus's smile widened even more, and although he made no sound, his mouth formed the unmistakable word: "Father."

Harry's eyes filled with tears at the sight. Little preborn Severus knew who his true father was destined to be, was unwilling to wait until he was born to meet him.

"NO!" The Lucien in the Pensieve shouted before his hand made contact with the burning potion. He quickly picked up a large stirrer and agitated the potion roughly, willing the boy's reflection away. "Begone! Do not endear yourself to me! I must do what is best for Mervidith now." He continued to stir the potion until the mixture was frothy and could no longer reflect even light.

"I must be daft!" Lucien muttered under his breath. There was a certain injustice to it all. Here he was, a man who could not sire a child of his own; concocting a potion to kill what could be his only chance at raising a child to have his values, his ideals, and his future. A child to be reared as he, and no one else, saw fit.

After taking several calming breaths, Lucien looked into the caldron once more and shifted some of the froth to the side, exposing a reflective area in the centre. There was no sign of the little boy. Lucien then wondered if the vigorous stirring had ruined the potion, so he gathered some treated parchments from a cupboard and returned to the caldron. Once more, and he wasn't sure why he did it, he looked into the caldron, as though searching for that little boy who had called him father. That child, who did not look very much like James or Jephthah Potter, but a lot like Mervidith...and... Lucien shivered... and wore an expression of wonder...like HIS?! Lucien placed the parchments on the table, and prepared the other ingredients to test potency of the potion. But when he turned back to the caldron, he saw the ghostly boy again. This time, he was standing beside the caldron, and attempting to look in. When the boy could not see adequately, he held onto the rim and hoisted himself up, until he had a clear view into the caldron.

Harry smiled at the sight. Even before his own birth, Severus Snape was fascinated by potions. How sad that the preborn Severus was looking at a potion that would mean his death in utero.

Lucien dropped the ingredients and a parchment on the floor. He washed his hands in the nearby sink, then washed his eyes, but the little boy did not disappear. While still clinging to the side of the caldron, the boy turned to Lucien. He mouthed something that appeared to be: "What are you making, father?"

'Your demise,' Lucien almost responded, but he could not bring himself to do that. Instead, he tenderly reached for the little boy. 'I do not wish to kill you.' Lucien mouthed. He leaned close to the preborn Severus and whispered near his head: "Why don't you go and keep your mother company?"

Severus sprang off of the side of the caldron, and grinned at his father before scampering out of the room. Now it was Harry who was shivering. Harry had indeed seen that smile before, in his own reflection! When Harry was very happy, he smiled wide enough to show both his upper and lower rows of teeth. The preborn Severus had smiled in precisely that way.

Harry watched his grandmother enter the Spartan kitchen a few minutes later. She hobbled directly to the caldron. Initially, Harry thought the sight of Severus had frightened her, and that she had come to take a dose of the abortifacient right away. But she did no such thing. Instead, she kicked the cast-iron caldron twice, but in her weakened state, she barely made a ripple on the surface of the potion.

Lucien moved behind Mervidith and supported her in his arms as she told him about the preborn spirit's visit. Harry cheered out loud when Lucien said: "Allow me to assist you, I believe you wished to do THIS!" And he kicked the caldron over with all his might, spilling the abortifacient all over the floor.

Lucien waited until Harry stopped dancing and cheering triumphantly to continue. "On that day, Mervidith stopped mourning her being ousted from the Rogue clan; and I ceased ever looking back on my dismissal from the Malfoys." The Pensieve showed Mervidith resting on a mattress beneath the very oak tree Severus would many years later build a treehouse in. Beside her, with his white haired head against her slightly rounded belly, was Lucien. He was reading a large tome, and Mervidith alternated between reading over his shoulder and serenely watching the stream. "After much research on our families, we discovered a common ancestor. A great potion master named Severitus Snape, the last living person to bear the Snape name. She had two sisters; Adrastea who married my ancestor, and Galatea, who married into the Rogue family. One day, an evil wizard of the time poisoned Adrastea and Galatea. Severitus, knowing that her sisters had families, made a potion to heal them, using her own blood. Adrastea and Galatea lived, but Severitus became ill from losing so much blood and died, and the Snape name died with her. But Severitus's magics were transferred to her sisters, and lived on in the blood of Adrastea Malfoy and Galatea Rogue. And it is in both of us." Harry watched the moving women in the book young Lucien was holding. "If we could no longer be recognized legally by our ancestral names, Malfoy and Rogue, we would reclaim a name that belonged to us both, a name that slept dormant for over 300 years. A name that is our birthright. It is Severus's birthright, and it is yours. We are, and always were; and will forever more be Snapes."

"Just before your grandmother entered the second trimester of pregnancy, we were married. The powerful witches who presided over our joining, reached deeply into our beings with their ancient spells, and brought to the forefront that which made us true Snapes."

The pensieve showed that Lucien was once again laying beside Mervidith with his head next to her considerably larger belly. "You are destined to be the first true Snape to be born in over three-hundred years. This is our gift to you, my son. You'll have a name, a legacy, a home to pass on to your children, and more love than you can hold in your little heart." He put a hand gently on Mervidith's abdomen, and Harry jumped as he saw his grandmother's stomach leap against Lucien's hand. "He moved! Great Merlin, Mervvie! Our son, he moved!"

"He knows his father's voice." Mervidith said, kissing the top of Lucien's head.

Lucien was so charmed by little Severus's movements, that he put his head directly against Mervidith's stomach once more, and allowed little Severus to jostle him as much as the foetus wanted. "Severus..."

"What?"

"Severus..." Harry had lost count of how many times his father had kicked his grandfather in the head. "The name...it came upon me, as though it were from the child?!"

Mervidith placed a hand on the side of her abdomen and felt the child kick her affectionately. "He represents our severance from the Rogues, the Potters and the Malfoys. A parting from their ways, their values and their lives."

Harry watched as the pensieve changed again to show Mervidith, with much of her energy restored, running across the grounds of Snape Manor. Her belly had grown so large, that she looked as though she were smuggling a very large pumpkin under her elegant aquamarine maternity robes.

"Mervvie!" Lucien shouted, struggling to keep up as he ran after her. "You shouldn't be carrying on this way! You'll be giving birth soon!"

"But Severus likes this and no, I'm not due for another three weeks. Severus knows when he's ready.!" Mervidith protested, not slowing in the slightest, even though she appeared breathless. And no wonder! With her stomach so full of baby, Harry could not imagine how her lungs could expand to allow her an adequate supply of oxygen?

Lucien gave up from sheer exhaustion, even pregnant, Mervidith could still outrun him. "Oh yeah? Well if you're so clever, what are you going to do if you're giving Severus motion sickness?"

The Pensieve changed once more, and judging from the size of Mervidith's stomach, and the shrillness of her cries, she was in labour.

"Mr. Snape, she's been in labour for almost 20 hours!" the mediwitch said. "She's exhausted. Can't you convince her to take a pain reducer?"

"Mervidith," Lucien said, offering the pain relieving potion for what seemed to be the twentieth time. "Won't you take it?"

"NO!" Mervidith shouted, nearly breaking Lucien's fingers as another contraction took hold. "Severus will be here when he's ready! The potion will force him out prematurely."

Desperate, Lucien climbed onto the bed and situated himself behind Mervidith. "Then I will use the modified Legillimency on you, it will allow me to bear some of your pain and in turn to instill you with the strength you'll require to see this through to completion."

Despite Mervidith's protests, Harry could tell that Lucien had broken into Mervidith's mind and was intercepting many of the nerve impulses meant for the pain receptors in her brain. It was the strangest thing Harry had seen. Lucien was screaming as though some one had hit him with the cruciatus curse. Strike that, Harry thought Lucien looked as though he were in the throes of ten cruciatus curses...simultaneously. Mervidith appeared to have regained some of her strength and dealt with her labour with renewed determination."

"You're fully dilated." The Mediwitch said from beneath Mervidith's nightgown. "When you feel the next contraction, you may begin pushing."

Harry had never witnessed the birth of a child before, and found the experience to be among the most awe-inspiring of his young life. Making the situation even more unfathomable, he was seeing the birth of his own parent.

The whole scene before him was tempered with underlying sadness. All Harry could see at the moment, was a beautiful, and loving family. Severus was born after what seemed to be hours of agony for both his parents. When the mediwitch placed the newborn between Mervidith and Lucien, he seemed so at peace. How could that peace in his father's eyes have faded so much that Harry could detect not even a vestige of it in the present day Severus. How did this loving family dissolve into an abusive home.

For now, Harry's questions seemed all but irrelevant. Although Grandfather and Grandmother looked utterly knackered, they still looked adoringly at their newborn.

"Welcome to the world, Severus. My beloved son." Lucien whispered, kissing Severus on the forehead. "You're a beautiful child. So much like your mother." Lucien raised his head to look at his wife, but after twenty-one hours of labour, she was no longer awake. He held a hand out to Severus, and the infant grabbed his fingers and held on as if for dear life. "I know you are destined for great things, my son. I feel the magic already rising in you. It is the same magic your mother has." Lucien's eyes widened. "And...and...it feels like...mine?"

Severus looked at his father with the blue grey eyes of a newborn. Harry could have sworn baby Severus sneered smugly at his father, even though babies supposedly don't sneer, as if to say: 'but of course, you are my father, after all.'

The twenty-one hours of labour had taken its toll on Lucien as well, and he nestled his head beside baby Severus, who had not relinquished Lucien's fingers. "I did not think it possible for me to love you; as much as a true father loves his son." Young Lucien closed his eyes. "You are truly destined to be a great wizard, Severus, for you are not more than two hours old, and you have already proven your father wrong at something."

* * *

"Grandfather!" Harry wailed, crying as though his heart were breaking. As pleasant as the scene in the pensieve was, he knew what was to come. Mervidith would lose her doting husband. Severus would lose the father he had bonded with even before his birth and would live in fear of him for the rest of his days. And Severus would lose that smile, his jovial eyes would become hollow like tunnels. And his perfect, blemish-free skin would one day bear scars. And his heart would be broken so often that it would serve no other purpose than to keep him alive. He would lose the ability to feel. To love. "I have to go wash my face! I'll be right back."

Just as Harry slammed the door to the water closet, Lucien heard a sob from the direction of Severus's bed.

"Sevvie!" Lucien floated over to Severus, who was now sitting up in bed. What little colour Severus had possessed, had reclaimed it's rightful home on his pale face in spades.

Severus shuddered and pulled back, although he did not appear as frightened of his father as he was before. In fact, he looked less frightened of Lucien than he had been in more than two decades.

"Sevvie," Lucien whispered, "my dear son, are you all right?"

"Fine..." The younger man wheezed, looking around the room. "How did you get into Snape Manor two?"

"I didn't, you're in Snape Manor One."

Severus made as though to bolt from the bed, but Lucien gently, but firmly stayed him by grasping both of his shoulders. In other circumstances, Severus would have screamed and tried to escape using any means available. This time, he just lowered his head, his dark curtain of hair falling on either side of his sallow face.

"Sevvie? How long have you been awake?"

The younger man answered without looking up. "Since late last night." Severus clenched his fists. "You sedated me so heavily, I couldn't wake up! But...but I was aware of everything...I heard everything you said to Harry." Severus still did not raise his head. "Although my eyes were closed, I experienced everything Harry saw in your Pensieve! I felt his every reaction. Felt your sincerity through him."

"I know you'll not be able to forgive me for how I treated you over the years." Lucien brushed some of Severus's hair back, but it fell right back into place. "But I would still like to say I'm sorry for breaking my promises to you. I promised you a home, and I gave you a form of Hell to live in. I promised to give you a legacy, but I only gave you my place amongst the Death Eaters. I promised to give you more love than your heart could hold, and I filled your heart with fear and hatred."

Severus finally raised his head, and his lower lip was trembling fiercely. He tried to dash his tears away, but more appeared in its place. "Why...why didn't you tell me?! Why didn't you tell me any of this before? You never talked to me! You constantly yelled! And if I asked you anything, you slapped me or worse...!!"

Words eluded them both, but Lucien clung to son as though the ghost of a violent father might frighten him off at any moment.

Severus wrapped his arms around his ghostly father's waist.

"I'm so sorry, Sevvie. If I could do anything to undo the harm..." Lucien could not continue, and only rubbed his son's back in precisely the manner that Severus had rubbed Harry's back when he had been upset. That was exactly what Harry saw when he returned to the room.

"Oh father!" Harry jumped onto the bed and hugged both his father and grandfather. "You're all right! You're all right!! I just knew it! Both me and grandfather knew it! You're too obs- obs..."

"Obstinate." both Lucien and Severus mumbled at the same time.

"Yeah!" Harry kissed both men on the cheeks. "You're just too obistanate to die! We all are! Grandfather might have a dead body, but he's not really dead because he's here! Father got hemo-raging fever, but he didn't die, and Mouldyshorts didn't kill me even though he's tried before." Lucien gazed at Harry in surprise, while Severus just nodded. "But we won't go without a fight! You know why?"

"Why?" Lucien and Severus said in unison.

"Because," Harry grinned hugely, showing both his upper and lower teeth, "WE ARE SNAPES!"

End Part Thirty-Five


	36. Farewell, My Son

**Remembrance and Renewal ** by **Avatar Arkmage** and **Nigel Tatsuya**   
Chapter Thirty-Six: **Farewell, My Son**

Harry spent the next few hours making good on his earlier vow to tell his Grandsire everything about himself. Severus, who was still recovering from his bout with haemorrhagic fever, vacillated between slumber and trying hard to remain awake to listen to Harry's lively, though factually sound, accounts. The youth, annoying, though he could be, had a way of turning even the most mundane subjects into engaging and amusing feasts for the ears. 

The situation between Severus and Lucien remained both volatile and tenuous. Although Severus no longer panicked from his father's presence alone, long suppressed memories invaded his dreams, and made their presence known even during the brief moments when he was fully conscious. Memories of being shouted at, beaten, humiliated, and otherwise terrorised played across his consciousness like a macabre sutra. 

Harry's life story, complete with explanations about everything from olive oil presses to semiautomatic weapons, was a welcome diversion.

* * *

"Excuse me, good sirs." Rastus bowed dutifully at the doorway at around noon. "Lunch for you is prepared." 

"Thank you, Rastus." Severus, Lucien and Harry chorused. 

"I don't think father is strong enough to go to the dining room." Harry worried aloud. 

The octarelf summoned the trays into the room, and a table from one of the nearby laboratories followed the trays in like a curious quadrupedal creature. 

Rastus had prepared a relatively small meal of roast pork, potatoes, carrots, tossed greens and Yorkshire puddings, for only Harry and Rastus would be able to actually eat it. Lucien, as usual, would only pretend to eat; and Severus's system was too fragile to handle more than tea and light broths. 

Lucien did not pretend to eat at this meal, but assisted Severus by propping him up on pillows and manually feeding him. Severus protested at being so tended, but only with his expression, for he dared not say anything which could potentially incur his father's anger. 

"So what you were saying, Harry, is that you're planning to ask Hermione Granger about the feasibility of going against the Dark Lord using semiautomatic weapons?" Lucien asked, spooning more clear broth into Severus's mouth. 

"Sure Grandfather, outclassing your enemies is a sound strategy in warfare isn't it? Of course we'll still use magic, but old Mouldyshorts won't be expecting half of what we throw at him." Harry replied, somehow managing to quickly empty his plate whilst elaborating on the strategies he planned to employ. Lucien was too fascinated to interrupt very often, and Severus could not physically to do much more than listen. "And I'm also going to ask my friend Cho Chang about the ways people in Asia and The Pacific engage in warfare. With all the amazing electronics and other things they have there, they must have powerful weapons too! And since China is the world's oldest continuous culture, they must have ancient strategies we can use to take Mouldyshorts completely by surprise!" 

"Harry," Lucien said, throwing one of Severus's pillows aside and supporting the younger man in the crook of his spectral arm as he continued to feed him, "you really seem determined to confront The Dark Lord. But the prophecy you've spoken of said that either you or The Dark Lord would emerge the victor, and that only one of you can survive... As much as I love you, my only grandchild, I do not wish you to join me in death." 

"Then I won't lose!" Harry stated, a strange mixture of maturity and childlike enthusiasm on his features. "If only one of us can survive, it will be me! I have a reason to fight now!" Harry reached over the makeshift table and put a hand on Lucien's shoulder, which to Harry's relief was solid. "You, Grandad, have lost your happiness and your life with father and grandmother! You've even lost your life for real!" 

Harry then stood, and wrapped an arm around Severus. "And you, father, you've lost almost everything, and even now, you're still a slave to Mouldyshorts!" He looked toward the ceiling. "And grandmother, she's lost herself...can't even use her own body!" 

Harry began sobbing. "And I lost all the people I ever loved! My mother, my daddy James, my godfather Sirius..." Harry hugged his father and grandfather close. "And I lost you both and grandmother too! If I didn't almost die, I'd have never known about any of you being my family and I'd still be all alone!" 

"I only fought before, because it was expected of me, or else I couldn't help it. I didn't have a clear reason to fight Voldemort before! BUT NOW I DO!" Harry looked at Rastus, Severus and Lucien in turn. "I'll have revenge! Or else I'll take death, so long as I kill VOLDEMORT whilst I'm at it. I want him dead before he can make another family suffer as we have!" 

Lucien, Severus and Rastus cringed at Harry's usage of the name 'Voldemort' as well as the anger on his face. 

Severus unsteadily shrugged himself from Lucien's grasp and leaned toward Harry. "You'll not cast your life away! I will not allow it." 

"Well I won't allow Voldemort to live! If he lives on, more families will be destroyed!" Harry shouted back. 

"To attack Voldemort outright is the same as throwing your life away!" Severus rasped weakly. "And once you're dead, he'll simply continue his attacks against others." 

"Then you make sure you help me vanquish Voldemort! You too, grandfather, you might be a ghost, but that doesn't mean that you can't still fight somehow! All those ghosts of people killed by Voldemort, I'm sure they'd want revenge! I know both of your hearts ache for revenge, just as mine does! He should pay for making us suffer! We'll show Mouldyshorts the penalty for hurting the Snape family." 

Knowing they could not sway Harry, Severus and Lucien allowed him to continue on with his diatribe, even though neither of them particularly liked the course of action he was proposing. Even though the thought of another family suffering as they had was frightening, they certainly did not want Harry to be killed. 

When Harry finally talked himself hoarse, Lucien and Severus were both contemplating strategies for helping Harry on his quest, as well as ways to keep him alive. They had no alternative but to do so. Perhaps when he returned to being a teen he wouldn't be so rash in his actions. 

Then again, Severus worried, he might go back to being his old arrogant self. "Harry, must you let your Gryffindor vanity, or shall I say foolishness, obscure your better judgement??" Severus sneered, thinking of the teenager he felt he knew better than this angry little boy before him. 

"I'm not doing this for anyone's acclaim!" Harry said firmly. "I'm doing this for us, and people like us! Not only as revenge, but because I don't want to see another parent and child torn apart by Mouldyshorts and his henchmen! First it was you and grandfather and grandmum, and then it was us!" Harry turned to face Severus fully. "Do you think I'm doing this for VANITY? Do you think I could live with myself, if another family ends up broken like us? Do you think I could look in the mirror again if I knew I could have done something about it? I'm the one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord, do you think I'd throw that away because I was scared? How many more lives have to be ruined before we do something about it? How many more kids like me will never know their mother or grandmother?" Harry sneered in a way that looked so much like Severus's own sneer that Severus shivered. "VANITY! You still don't know your own son very well, do you?" 

"Harry, I want you to live. Far more than I want you to seek revenge. No father wants to bury his own son!" 

"Then take your own advice, Sevvie." Lucien mumbled into the empty bowl. "Stop spying for Albus Dumbledore." 

"As though there were an alternative! I cannot leave, you of all people should know that! Besides, you wished to bury me yourself!" Severus turned on his sire. "Sometimes when you beat me, I truly thought you intended to kill me!" 

Lucien lowered his head in shame, "haven't you learned anything from being in The Dark Lord's service? I couldn't help how I treated you! Service to The Dark Lord is dangerous enough, but betraying him can lead to the destruction of everything you are. Those times I beat you until you lost consciousness, I feared I had killed you. But there was little I could do to stop myself, much like watching helplessly whilst another hurts those you love more than your own life." 

"And what will you do, if I say that I do not believe you?" Severus hissed through his clenched teeth. "Are you going to backhand me again? Throw me into a tub of scalding water? Flay me until my flesh is raw?" 

Shame usurped full control of Lucien's affect. "Sevvie! I'm sorry! I'm so sorry! I didn't want to hurt you! I never did! Better Voldemort had killed me than to leave you with such a violent father." 

"Why did you do it then?" Severus hissed. 

"I had sustained severe head injuries. I was mentally ill! I swear I would not have hurt you or your mother otherwise!" 

"Mentally ill?" Severus repeated incredulously. 

"Your mother should have sent me to St Mungos. Or bashed me unconscious with a caldron when I was in a fit. You should have reported me to your teachers, to the aurors, to anyone, Sevvie. " 

"And risk you doing worse if you found out? And will you stop calling me 'Sevvie?'" 

"STOP FIGHTING!" Harry yelled, pounding the table with such force that his empty plate clattered to the floor. "How are we supposed to fight with Voldemort if you two can't get on with one another? Please! Father, I know you're really hurt, and you can't forgive Grandfather for how he treated you when you were a lad. And Grandfather, I know you didn't mean to be so cruel, and I know you're really sorry about it now, but it takes time to heal these kinds of wounds. But I love both of you, and I can't stand to see you fighting against each other. It..." This was an entirely new feeling for Harry, and he didn't quite understand how to cope. "It...it hurts my heart when you fight! Watching people I love be both insulted and angry at the same time. It hurts more than if you were both yelling at me somehow!" Harry clutched the hand he had punched the table with and started sobbing. "Owwww, my hand!!" 

But his hand was not the reason Harry was crying. Neither Severus nor Lucien believed it to be so. 

Severus gently palpated Harry's hand, checking for any broken bones. "Harry, when you decide to go after The Dark Lord, I will be at your side." 

"I will help you as well, my grandson. In any way I am able." Lucien smoothed Harry's long hair."You have my word." 

"Thenb we'll all attack Mouldyshorts as SNAPES!" Harry said, chomping into a huge slice of roast without cutting it into a more manageable morsel first.

* * *

On the porch of Malfoy Mansion, Draco lounged on the swing, languidly watching the house elves as they went about their duties on the grounds. They had healed him within minutes of his arrival home, and he had spent the next few hours riding his broom, playing wizard chess with one of the house elves, and otherwise doing all the things he hadn't been able to do during his time in the muggle world. When he became hungry, the kitchen elves served him all of his favourite foods; and he ate until he was so full, that he had no recourse but to go straight to bed immediately thereafter. 

At first, it seemed a pleasure to be at home with no one to tell him what he should do, or when he should do it. He hadn't gone to sleep until nearly four thirty in the morning, and he ran in hallways without worrying about Narcissa admonishing him for it. Lucius had always advised Draco against riding his broom in the night for fear of encounters, or even collisions, with dangerous nocturnal creatures in the air. Last night, Draco rode his broom freely, and saw nothing more than a barn owl whilst in the air. The elves would not tell him what he should do, and they only stood by in case he got injured. 

Now Draco was overcome with worry. None of the house elves could tell him of his mother's whereabouts, and although he flooed St. Mungos, no one could tell him anything, except that they had transferred Narcissa to the same muggle hospital on the same day they had transferred Draco there. 

Draco entertained the idea of contacting his cousin Nymphadora Tonks for assistance, but their relationship was less than amicable. They were almost strangers in fact, and Draco had only seen her in passing a few times in his life. Narcissa could hardly stand that her sister Andromeda had married a lowly Muggle, and their families had had little contact with one another over the years. 

"Bloody Granger!" Draco gritted his teeth when his gaze fell upon one of his father's cloaks hanging on the clothesline. Lucius had always insisted the elves hang his cloaks out in the fresh air rather than merely spelling them fresh. Thanks to Mudblood Granger's need to be a know-it-all and making sure everyone knew it, Lucius Malfoy might never have the chance to wear his fine cloaks ever again. Everywhere Draco looked, he could see the conspicuous absence of his father. And so many missed opportunities. 

Draco stood suddenly and commanded the house elves to find things to do on the other side of the mansion. Once they scuttled off, Draco sat heavily in the swing once more. When he was sure they would not see him, Draco sniffled. "Mother..." He clenched his fists. "Father!" 

He bolted into the mansion and ran into the library. He decided to return to the muggle hospital, but would learn to make an illegal portkey beforehand. That way, he could easily return to Malfoy Mansion...with another person.

* * *

"So why did you join the Death Eaters anyway, Grandfather?" asked Harry. 

"Harry!" Severus warned. "You do not ask..." 

"It is all right, I anticipated that either you or your father would ask that." Lucien sighed, lowering his ghostly head. He placed a hand gently on his son's shoulder, and was relieved that Severus did not flinch from his touch. "You both deserve an explanation, since I am responsible for starting the Snape family down this path." 

Lucien fluffed Severus's pillows and administered another dose of the healing potion before beginning his tale. He levitated the pensieve high enough so that both Severus and Harry could see the images clearly as they swirled out of the semi-solid surface. "We were the happiest family for the nearly two years following Severus's birth." 

Images of Lucien doing his revisions for the university revolved slowly from the pensieve. On his back, appearing to be reading over his father's shoulder, was the infant Severus. Lucien had transfigured a harness out of an old rucksack, allowing him to keep baby Severus with him at virtually all times. Harry concluded that baby Severus did not seem to mind, and even appeared to love spending time with his father, especially when his father was working on potions. 

"Lucien?" Mervidith poked her head into the lab. "May I have Severus back now?" 

"But Mervvie!" Lucien said in an almost whiney voice. He stirred what appeared to be powdered ashwinder eggshells into the caldron. "Sevvie's enjoying this! His inclination toward potions is manifesting itself already. It's best to start his education now as he's fascinated by the subject." 

"Well, all right. You know, since Sevvie wants to learn, and since I was expelled from Hogwarts," Mervidith clambered onto a chair on the other side of the caldron, "perhaps you could teach both of us potions then?" 

"Delighted to!" Lucien removed the harness and handed Severus to his wife while he described what he was brewing. Baby Severus looked overjoyed to have both parents in the presence of the caldron. 

Harry sighed at each blissful image as it floated above the pensieve. The image of Mervidith, swimming in the stream on the grounds of Snape Manor appeared next, and when she put her arms out in front of her, Harry almost jumped into them, forgetting momentarily that he was only looking at Lucien's memories. He turned around and saw that she had been encouraging baby Severus to swim over to her when Lucien released him in the cool waters. There were memories of the family just sleeping on their shared bed next, followed by a scene of them playing a game of one on one, or rather one on two, quidditch on the grounds. 

The infant Severus giggled and held on tightly to Lucien's long white hair as he executed a nose dive for the snitch. Harry jumped back from the Pensieve, for Mervidith, who was also after the snitch, came at them at top speed. Neither Mervidith nor Lucien ended up taking the snitch, for it was baby Severus who had grabbed it as it tried to zoom away. 

"You're a seeker at Hogwarts are you not?" Lucien asked. 

"Yes I am. And I think I've just learned where I inherited my seeker skills from!" Harry nodded. "Why didn't you ever play quidditch, father?" 

Severus merely huffed in response, unwilling to tell Harry the real reason. 

"Our happiness was short-lived..." Lucien lamented as the images of the Snape family at a muggle circus flickered above the pensieve. Lucien and Mervidith, were seated in the audience with Severus tucked comfortably between them. They had dressed the toddler in a bright red muscle shirt and loud purple jeans, which Harry was sure Severus would have objected to if he could have. Lucien had greased his long white hair, and magically arranged it in a very big rebel-without-a-cause style. He wore a leather jacket, a white muscle shirt and tight blue denims, which Harry thought somewhat strange for some one who couldn't even look at a men's bodybuilding magazine without being shocked. Mervidith fastened her long, burning coal coloured hair into two ponytails with big white ribbons. She wore a white jumper, a long periwinkle skirt with poodles embroidered on it, and matching bobby socks. On their feet, the Snapes all wore shiny, patent leather shoes. 

"On weekends, we often ventured as a family into the muggle world. To better infiltrate the world of muggles, I became the muggle known as Tobias Snape, and eventually paid muggle taxes as Tobias Snape. Greedy, though the muggle ministry is, it was necessary to better understand the workings of their world. Besides, the new experiences there were like a holiday to an exotic place for us every week. There were so many things to see." 

"Oy! Yes I'm talking to you, you James Dean copy." Harry frowned as a carnival employee teased Lucien unmercifully. "You think you're man enough to ring the bell eh? Come on!" 

Lucien moved closer to an apparatus he had obviously never seen before. Judging from the giant numerals written in a scale like configuration, he guessed it were some sort of muggle gauging device. He was fascinated also by the glowing letters at the top of the contraption, which spelled out 'Test Your Strength.' "Test your strength?" Lucien asked the proprietor. 

"Yeah! Think you're strong enough to ring that bell?" The proprietor asked, tossing the mallet from one hand to the other. 

"Anyone could cause that bell to toll, although I fear I may not be tall enough to reach it," Lucien replied, making as if to walk away, "one would need to be as tall as a...giant of myth." 

"Whoah, you're not from around here are you?" the proprietor then demonstrated how Lucien was not supposed to hit the bell with the mallet, but how he was supposed to hit the target at the base of the device with enough force. 

"Thank you for the demonstration, but I have more productive things to do with my..." 

"Ah gowan! You're just being a chicken!" the proprietor mocked. "Bet you're really a weakling! A pansy!" 

"I assure you, I am neither a weakling, nor a pansy!" Lucien had had enough. He removed his leather jacket and draped it over little Severus's shoulders. Lucien handed the man some coins, then picked up the mallet and struck the target with so much force, it not only rang the bell, but knocked it right off the apparatus. 

The proprietor grumpily handed Lucien a teddy bear even larger than baby Severus was. 

Lucien offered the proprietor more coins."After you repair your 'Test Your Strength' machine, I wonder if I might play again? I would like to win an additional bear replica for my..." 

"NO! They ought to ban goons like you from public places!" The proprietor yelled, refusing to take the coins. "G'WAN! BEAT IT!" 

Harry thought it was funny to watch a wizarding family, turned loose at a muggle fair. It was even more pleasant for Harry, because he knew the family in question was his own. The poor fair officials apparently did not know what had hit them! Harry was not sure if Lucien were really that skilled, or had used magic to win many of the prizes at the game kiosks. 

Harry also noticed that Mervidith, Lucien and Severus appeared to be eating constantly. Each time the family moved from one activity to the next, they purchased more carnival food to eat on the way. Not even the Dursleys had allowed Dudley to eat as much candy floss as little Severus was happily enjoying. When Mervidith and Lucien started on their fourth pieces of strawberry pie, Harry concluded that they must have been bewitching their stomachs to accommodate the colossal amount of food. How could anyone consume so much without becoming sick anyway? Harry wondered also how they could play the games so proficiently with their bellies so full of nutritionally deficient food. When one of the people minding a ring-toss kiosk teased Mervidith, she not only ringed the prize with one of the hoops, she also ringed the proprietor's nose. 

Harry found his grandparents to be a bit irresponsible when it came to the carnival rides however, since they took little Severus on everything with them, including the roller coaster. If Severus were afraid of Ferris wheels and roller coasters as an adult, Harry knew exactly who to blame for that! What parents took a baby on a roller coaster anyhow? 

The scene changed to the bumper cars attraction. Harry laughed to see his grandmother driving so aggressively that the other drivers avoided her like the plague. When the ride was over, the other drivers seemed to be exiting the attraction for the sole purpose of getting away from the radical bobbysoxer that would one day be Harry's grandmother. 

"Mervvie, dear." young Lucien said as the family made their way out of the fairgrounds later that evening. "You seem a bit parched." 

"Well," Mervidith said, stopping so Severus could get a better look at the elephants next to the circus tent, "I am a little thirsty." 

"Not good," Lucien said. "You're still lactating. You must remain well hydrated to assure a good supply. Severus will be the worse for it if you don't." 

"I'll be sure to drink a whole decanter of water when we get home." Mervidith replied. 

"Too right you will." Lucien nodded, kissing baby Severus on the forehead. "But while we're still here, I shall purchase more beverages for us." 

Severus and Mervidith looked very pleased at that. 

Lucien trudged to the large concession stand at the opposite end of the fairgrounds. Instead of just purchasing chocolate malts for them, Lucien could not resist buying a little of every food item on the menu. Save for a few items common to both the muggle and magical world, Lucien had never tried the majority those things on the menu until that day, and decided that it would make the family's trip to the fair all the more memorable if they dined on all varieties of carnival food after they arrived home as well. 

Lucien walked back in the direction of his wife and child a short time later, struggling to carry the many boxes of circus fare along with the giant teddy bear he had won earlier. Mervidith particularly loved the grilled sandwiches, funnel cakes and sugar coated popcorn, while Sevvie enjoyed the caramel apples, grilled cheese sandwiches, and candy floss, so Lucien bought extra quantities of those items. 

A loud explosion resonated through the grounds. At the sight of smoke rising above the area just outside the big tent, where he had left his family, Lucien dropped what he was carrying and started running toward it. "Mervvie!! Sevvieeeee!!!" 

"Sir! We cannot allow you to go in there." A constable attempted to hold Lucien away from the blast site. "It's too dangerous, there might be another bomb yet to go off..." 

Lucien shoved the uniformed official over, and muscled his way past several other officers as he ran into the still smoking blast site. The bodies of wounded carnival attendees were everywhere, and at last Lucien found Mervidith and Severus; laying side by side next to a dead elephant. 

"It was a turbulent time in the Muggle world," Lucien explained as the sounds of Lucien screaming over Mervidith and Severus's bodies echoed in the room. "Evidently some rebellious muggles called terrorists had set off a dirty bomb on the fairgrounds. Your grandmother and father were well within the bomb's blast radius, were it not for the elephant shielding them, they would have surely died from the force of the blast alone." 

"What did you mean by a 'dirty bomb,' grandfather?" asked Harry. 

"The bomb was laced with deadly toxins." Lucien replied sadly. "I knew something was very strange about the blast because the fumes caused my eyes and skin to burn and it was very painful to breathe, much more so than if it were just ordinary smoke. I recovered after a few days in St. Mungos, but your grandmother and father grew steadily worse..." 

"Mr. Snape," the mediwizard said. "Your wife and son are very ill. We've done all we can for them but..." 

"ARE YOU SAYING THEY ARE DYING?!" Lucien grabbed the mediwizard's robes and backed him into the wall. 

"I'm truly sorry, Mr. Snape..." The mediwizard sighed. "We've never dealt with a non-magical weapon of this sort. Their blood is now poisoned, and the gasses have burned away much of the lining on their lungs. Their hearts are damaged, and although we've attempted to heal them, our efforts have only caused more injuries. Their digestive tracts are too compromised for any potions to be administered, and all the magics we've attempted have only damaged their bodies further as their tissues are extremely fragile. And your little one, although your wife took more of the blast, it left his eardrums ruptured and he has extensive blast wounds throughout his soft tissues. And their livers..." 

Lucien slammed the mediwizard into the wall repeatedly. "Unacceptable! I'll not hear that you cannot cure them! There must be a course of action you haven't attempted!" 

"Release me!" the mediwizard screeched. "URF! We've done everything...OW! I tell you...Agh!" 

Lucien continued to ram the mediwizard into the wall until he passed out. 

"I had them transferred to a muggle hospital, but even the doctors there could not save Mervvie and Sevvie." Lucien looked sadly at the pensieve, showing the younger version of himself pacing the room back in Snape Manor, where Mervidith and Severus lay motionless on a four poster bed. 

"So what did you do?" Harry asked. 

"I researched everything I could find in the hopes of saving their lives. Your grandmother and father were at the centre of my world, and as their deaths drew nearer, I grew more and more desperate. When no legal course of action seemed feasible, I even consulted the dark arts texts in the hopes of finding a viable treatment." Harry watched as the scene changed to show Lucien, seated at a desk in a grand library, and perusing a stack of large tomes. Seated next to him, was a little blonde boy who Harry initially thought was Draco Malfoy, but judging from the year it was then, concluded the boy could only have been Lucius Malfoy. The boy Lucius climbed off of his chair and ran along a row of shelves only to return later with a book almost too large for him to carry. 

"Thank you, Lucius." Lucien patted the boy, who looked very much like him, on the head. He quickly began reading the book his little clone had brought him, which Harry saw was titled: 'Potions Apocrypha: A Compendium of Illegal Potions Employing the Dark Arts.' The little boy grinned widely, returned to his seat next to Lucien and resumed looking at a circus souvenir picture book. 

"For the next few days, when my father left for his job at the ministry, my mother admitted me to Malfoy Manor so that I could study the dark arts books in their vast libraries; hoping desperately each time for a potion, or some other form of treatment, that could save your father and grandmother. Early on the third day, I found a potion that looked promising." 

Little Lucius had been laying with his head in Lucien's lap when Lucien jumped off the couch excitedly. 

"WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!!!" bawled Lucius, laying on the floor and rubbing his head. 

"My apologies," Lucien replied, pulling Lucius into his arms and putting an all day sucker, purchased for the sole purpose of bribery, into the boy's mouth. "Thank you, Lucius, you've been of great assistance to me." 

"MMMrph mray!" little Lucius replied, sucking on the giant lollipop.

* * *

"The concoction I had found was one of the most potent healing potions known. It is absorbed directly into the bloodstream through the skin, rather than ingested; just what would be needed, as their digestive tracts were impaired. This healing potion was also a powerful, and fast-acting broad spectrum regenerator. It is strong enough to reanimate the dead if employed promptly after death. The only problem, it is brewed from ingredients either illegal or almost impossible to acquire, including a whole phoenix heart." 

"Phoenix heart?" Harry gasped. "So since phoenixes are reborn from the ashes when they burn, does taking out the heart make the phoenix really dead?" 

"Yes it does, that is why the potion is so illegal to brew. Phoenixes are rare creatures that are protected under our laws. But I was willing to break any law or do anything for your grandmother and father. There was no price too high." The images of Lucien having the doors of several shops in Knockturn Alley slammed in his face played above the stone bowl. One shop owner had two of his employees throw the pale young adult into the street. "Unfortunately, I could not acquire all the ingredients needed to brew the potion. Not even those who dealt exclusively in dark arts items could sell me a phoenix heart. But I would not be deterred. I was willing pay any price. Any at all."

* * *

Both Harry and Severus gasped as a very human looking Voldemort appeared opposite Lucien. The room they were in was illuminated only by torches which glowed an eerie blue colour. The walls were all done in black marble, and the only thing breaking the continuity of black in the background, were the white, early versions of Death Eater masks. 

"Sssso," Voldemort, who looked more like the Tom Riddle Harry remembered from the bewitched diary, hissed, "you are pledging loyalty and your ssservices to our cause?" 

"Yes...master." Lucien knelt on the floor and bowed his head. "I will serve as your potions brewer for as long as you require."

* * *

"In exchange for my service and loyalty to the Death Eaters, The Dark Lord not only produced a phoenix for me, but virtually all the other illegal ingredients I would require to brew the potion that would save Mervvie and Sevvie's lives." 

Harry turned away as the younger Lucien rolled up his sleeve and bowed beside a stone slab. Voldemort put on a pair of heavy gloves, picked up a glowing iron from the fire and pressed it into Lucien's arm.

* * *

"Now go and ssssave your wife and your ssson. You are to report back to thisss location in a month'sss time." The Dark Lord instructed as one of his masked Death Eaters moved out of the circle holding a bound, live phoenix in his gloved hands. Voldemort took the phoenix from his minion and flung it to Lucien. "Goyle hasss already delivered the ressst of your ssssupplies to the universssity. Use them well, and come back in 30 dayssss, you will begin your dutiessss then." 

The scene changed to show Lucien back in a much larger lab in Snape Manor. Although his newly made brand appeared to be bothering him greatly, he worked feverishly at the caldrons, only stopping to check frequently on Mervidith and Severus, who were huddled together under the covers of the four poster bed in a room beside the lab.

* * *

Both Severus and Harry stared transfixed on the images playing above the pensieve, as Lucien added bowl after bowl full of unidentifiable substances to the caldron, turning the mixture a sickly greyish-green colour. Harry turned away as Lucien seized the beautiful phoenix, cut out its still beating heart, and placed it into the cauldron, where it pumped the bubbling liquid like swamp-coloured blood. 

He then prepared the most difficult ingredient. Lucien unfastened the front of his robes and began cutting into the soft tissues of his own belly. 

The phoenix heart within the caldron continued to pump the potion through it, effectively blending the substances, and turning the potion gradually a lighter grey colour.

* * *

"Grandfather!" screeched Harry, as young Lucien began to groan in pain. "What were you doing then?!" 

"The last ingredient the potion required was a kilogram of living flesh from a family member." Lucien replied. 

"A whole kilogram?! But...you're not related by blood to either of them?" Harry muttered, watching as the pale, young adult went even paler as he bled profusely from where he was incising himself. Yet, Lucien was undaunted, continuing to painfully slice out slabs of his own flesh and place them on the scale before him. After what seemed to be an eternity, the scale measured a whole kilogram. He hastily tore shreds from his robes and bound his bleeding wounds. Neither Harry nor Severus could understand how Lucien was still conscious at this point, but he pulled himself upright and chopped the flesh into very small pieces before adding them into the cauldron. The potion quickly turned from light grey to bright red, and began to churn fiercely. The phoenix heart began to pump more forcefully, circulating the pieces of flesh throughout the potion. When Lucien swished his wand in a crisscrossed pattern and spoke the incantation, the entire potion appeared to explode. 

When the heavy clouds of black smoke receded, the once blood-red liquid in the cauldron had turned into a shimmering silver gel-like substance. All the bits of plant matter, the phoenix heart, and the flesh had disappeared. Satisfied, Lucien fell to the floor, and lost consciousness. 

He had simply bled too much.

* * *

Harry wrapped his arms around the ghost of the man in the pensieve, and noticed that the ghost's torso felt as though it had the indentations of deep scars. "Living flesh from a family member? I think I understand now...only a family member would love someone enough to brew a potion like that... You don't have to be related by blood to love some one like your own family." 

Severus hid his face in his hands. He did not need to see the images that followed, for these were among his earliest memories, repressed until that very moment. He remembered Lucien, who appeared to be in firm grip of agony, hobbling into the room with a jar of that silvery healing gel. Severus remembered feeling very sick and being in a considerable amount pain following their trip to the muggle fair. Then he remembered his father's hands, how soothing they were then, and how the pain subsided on contact with that powerful healing substance. He remembered thinking that his father was the best potion master in the world, for he began to feel better within minutes having the gel applied to his skin. Lucien then applied the gel to his wife before collapsing in shock, on the floor next to the four poster bed. 

The memory flickered, and Harry concluded it was because Lucien had lost consciousness then, hence the lack of memory. The next image showed both Mervidith and little Severus leaning over Lucien in concern, both their healing hands on his abdominal region. Even though neither of them were using wands, Lucien felt his wounds healing beneath their loving hands. It was not a perfect healing, for he was missing far too much tissue to heal without deep scars, but it mattered little. It was uncertain as to how much time had passed, but Mervidith and Severus had recovered. They were going to live. And Lucien, who was still too weak to sit up, held the two people dearest to him in the world and wept with joy. 

"Father," Severus said, still not raising his head, "was that the Amorvirtutisumbra Vivosvoco potion?" 

Lucien looked mildly surprised. "Yes it was. You know of it? You've studied dark potions?" 

"It was required of me to learn the brewing of dark potions, as I am now The Dark Lord's potion master." 

"Uh... what does Amorvi- amorvi... oh, whatever you said mean?" Harry asked. "That's a long name for a potion." 

"Translated, it means 'the shadow of love's virtue to summon the living.' Only a person who truly loves the intended recipients, would attempt that potion, for the potion's strength relies greatly on the love energy the brewer puts into it. Furthermore, because a kilogram of flesh is a dangerous quantity for the body to relinquish at one time, many potion masters have died in the brewing of it. "Severus replied his voice uncharacteristically shaky. 

"Died?!" Harry gasped. 

"The individual brewing the Amorvirtutisumbra Vivosvoco must be willing to sacrifice his or herself to save the lives of the ones they wish to heal." Severus explained. "The phoenix heart makes the potion remarkably powerful as it is, but the addition of the kilogram of the brewer's flesh amplifies the potion's strength tenfold." 

"So Grandfather, when you put your own flesh in the caldron, because it was still alive and contained your magic, it was magnified by the spell you cast on it?" Harry extrapolated. "Is that what makes it so powerful?" 

"You have a brilliant mind Harry!" Lucien knelt before his grandson. 

"The potion brewed with the phoenix heart alone may have helped them, but they still might have died." Harry shivered. "You added your own flesh to make sure they survived, because you loved them." 

"You have your father's sharp intellect, Harry." Lucien commended. 

"And father has your kind heart." Harry replied, thinking of all the times Severus had saved him at great risk to his own life. 

Harry wondered how this man had turned into the abusive father that had so terrorized Severus. The pensieve seemed to have heard the question in his mind, and displayed the image of Lucien brewing a massive quantity of potions in a laboratory illuminated by eerie, greenish torches. Harry could not ascertain exactly how long young Lucien had been working, although judging from how many caldrons were simmering simultaneously at varying stages, he concluded it must have been for several hours. 

"Ssssnape. " Voldemort entered the laboratory. "You're coming with ussss on a missssion tonight." 

"Yes Master," Lucien paused from his duties long enough to bow reverently to the very human appearing Voldemort.

* * *

"My identity of Tobias Snape quickly became more a curse than a blessing, for The Death Eaters quickly found a means to exploit it. 

"Exploit it?" Harry shivered as he spoke. 

"Tobias Snape was my identity as a muggle man, and in addition to my duties as potion brewer, I was also employed as a strategist in the planning of attacks on muggle towns and villages." Lucien stated, as the image of a younger, short-haired Lucien appeared about the stone bowl. As Tobias, Lucien typically wore muggle suits and appeared at community gatherings and busy streets. 

"Like you, Severus, I often acted against The Dark Lord orders, and strived to spare as many lives as I could do without The Dark Lord knowing of my betrayal. For a time, I was successful, but when I warned the muggle leaders in the town of Whitby of the impending attack, I was not aware that one of The Dark Lord's faithful had been spying on me." 

Harry and Severus both shuddered.

* * *

"Crucio!" Voldemort cursed Lucien without warning, as he worked at a caldron one night. The pale man to fall to the floor of his labs screaming, the potion soon bubbling over, untended. The Dark Lord never lifted the curse until Lucien passed out, and the images above the pensieve ceased as well. 

When the images above the Pensieve materialised once more, Lucien was still laying on the floor in the labs. "Since you are untrustworthy as a strategist, your duties are hereafter terminated. But sssince you agreed to be a potionsss masster, then that is what you'll do. You'll brew all the potions I require." 

"Yes, Master."Lucien bowed. 

Voldemort handed Lucien a parchment which must have been at least two metres long. "You're to produce every potion on the lissst, and as punissshment for your acting against me in the town of Whitby, you'll not be allowed food or rest until you've completed all thessse potionsss." 

It would potentially take him many days to complete all the potions. Lucien looked as though he wanted to protest, for he was already exhausted and feeling very poorly from having the cruciatus curse cast on him earlier, but he nodded and willingly set to work. The sooner he could complete his tasks, the sooner he'd be allowed to go home to Mervidith and Severus. 

After what seemed to be an eternity even within the condensed time within the pensieve, Lucien stoppered the last vial of a blood red potion. Harry and Severus both gaped when they saw at least eighty phials of the substance, although the Lucien in the pensieve seemed too tired to show anything other than fatigue on his face.

* * *

"At the time, I did not understand why The Dark Lord wanted some of these substances. Stamina enhancers and healing potions I can understand, but things like the Animalia? The Animalia is just a novelty potion really, something potions students slip into an unsuspecting person's drink to turn the drinker into a grunting, knuckle-dragging unevolved version of themselves for an hour or so." Lucien stated. 

"Is that how it is supposed to be used?" Harry asked. 

"Yes, it was created originally by a potions student who was fond of pranks." Lucien explained. "All it does is temporarily inhibit much of the neuronal activity in the higher portions of the individual's brain. Hence they are left very primal versions of their brains, and act like animals. It was sold in joke shops for a time, but too many parents complained of their children savaging the furniture or feasting on the raw meat of hares they caught whilst under the influence of the animalia." 

"Leave it to Mouldyshorts to come up with a way to misuse a potion that's supposed to be used as only a joke." Harry said angrily, remembering only too well what he had seen happen to Severus. 

"Yes..." Lucien sighed.

* * *

Young Lucien was cleaning the work area in the lab when a group of ten robed Death Eaters entered the labs. Voldemort handed each of them a blood red phial which they immediately ingested. Thinking that the only immediate danger was that the glass beakers and phials would be broken by Voldemort's wild minions, Lucien quickly spelled the potion racks from the shelves into the nearby reagent room, and locked the door. 

"Lucien," Voldemort began. "Remove your robes." 

"What?" Lucien gasped. 

"You need to be punished for your betrayal. Remove your robes at once." 

"Have I not been punished already? Master, forgive me for questioning you, but I am weary. If you feel the need to punish me further, can this not wait until later?" 

Voldemort administered the Cruciatus curse as his answer. He lifted it after thirty seconds and ordered Lucien to remove his robes once more. 

Weakened, and in too much pain to object, Lucien slowly removed his gloves, his protective robes and just as he began unbuttoning his white frock coat, he realised that the Animalia-Influenced minions were fighting over his discarded items of clothing, and in the process, tearing them to shreds. Each shred was sniffed, and Lucien realised that the ten were scenting him, and marking him for prey. 

Terrified, Lucien started to run toward the exit. 

One of the robed figures pounced on him and began biting hard into his neck. A second assailant raked at Lucien with an iron claw-fitted, gloved hand, tearing through his frock coat and shirt, and into his flesh. A third feral Death Eater drew his wand, but because he no longer had the capability of casting spells, he struck Lucien in the head repeatedly with it; sending unfocussed, blasts of magic directly into his head.

* * *

The ghost Lucien frantically agitated the surface of the pensieve. He neither wanted to see what had been done to him, nor did he wish to share this particular portion of his memory with Severus or Harry. He did not need to be reminded, for this was an incident that gave him years of nightmares in life, and was a memory he could not forget even in death. 

But flashes of the violent assault still flickered above the pensieve, and Lucien's screams resounded throughout the room. Neither Harry nor Severus could fathom that such brutality could ever be done to another living thing. 

When the neither solid nor liquid surface of the pensieve settled once more, the images appeared very disjointed, and Harry thought it was only because Lucien had stirred its surface so violently. When the images remained broken even after the surface was completely calm once more, Harry realized it was because Lucien's brain must have been damaged then. Hearing Lucien state that he could not produce a complete thought in life was one thing, seeing it was another thing entirely. 

"You are not to esscape by dying, White Sssnake." Voldemort said to Lucien, whose body was so badly mauled that Harry could not understand how he was still alive. There seemed to be more blood spilled around his body than remained inside him. Lucien's skin was literally ripped from his flesh in many places and even the flesh along his side had been ripped away, exposing four of his ribs. His arms and legs were broken, mangled and lay at odd angles. There were also bite marks all over his body, and one particularly harsh bite had broken the bones in his hand. "You will only die by my leave! You are my minion now, I will tell you when you may die!" 

Lucien's breath came in harsh rasps, and suddenly stopped. 

"Do not permit him to die!" The human Voldemort shouted, and four mediwizards, still clad in Death Eater robes, immediately cast a series of spells on him until Lucien commenced his laboured breathing. This occurred twice more, and Voldemort was forced to intervene, using magics to prevent Lucien from escaping his service with death. 

"You sssee death ssseeking to devour you, but you are now mine, Lucien Snape." Voldemort hissed. 

Lucien only sobbed in response, as the mediwizards set about repairing his body. His tears flowed into his hair, which was no longer white, but stained red from his own blood. 

"Make him live! Make him live!" Voldemort ordered over Lucien's cries.

* * *

The scene flickered like a poorly edited film and next showed Lucien limping up the steps into Snape Manor. The next image was of little Severus hugging his father's legs and Mervidith hugging her husband in relief. 

"Where have you been? We've missed you so much!" Mervidith gently lead Lucien to a sofa, and offered him a cup of tea which he accepted, but dropped on the floor with his very unsteady hand. "OH Dearest, you've been hurt! Everywhere! What has happened to you?" 

"I do not wish to talk about it." Lucien broke free of both their grasps and tried to hobble away. 

The image flickered and showed Lucien pushing Severus away when the little boy tried kissing his bruised hand. "But daddy's hand is broke!" Little Severus tried putting his lips to Lucien's partially healed hand again, and again, prompting Lucien to kick young Severus away forcefully. 

"I am aware that you're not feeling well, but really Lucien, he's just a baby! Sevvie was only trying to he-" 

Lucien backhanded Mervidith before she could finish. "LEAVE ME BE!! THE BOTH OF YOU!" 

"Now SEE HERE LUCIEN!" Mervidith quickly found an uninjured area on Lucien's face and slapped him back. "We are a family! We both want to help you! What's wrong? Tell me how we can help..." 

Swearing wrathfully, Lucien threw Mervidith to the floor. Before she could react, he jumped and pummelled Mervidith until her shocked questions turned into entreaties for mercy. Little Severus begged his father to stop, then he tried pulling his mother to safety, finally he lay his tiny body over hers to shield her from subsequent blows. 

The images became more disjointed and jumbled. Young Severus was wailing as he watched his mother being beaten. In the next scene, Lucien was beating Severus with a belt. Mervidith tried to intervene, and soon Lucien's wrath was turned firmly upon her. The scene wavered, then showed Mervidith trying to console a fretting young Severus, while holding a compress on a bleeding cut on her head. "Why is daddy so mad at you? Was I bad?" little Severus bawled. 

Another flicker, and Lucien threw the toddler Severus violently out of the labs. The child crashed into a shelf in the hall, leaving him bruised and wailing. 

"SHUT UP, you infernal prat!" Lucien shouted, tossing a heavy tome hard into Severus's side. 

One more flicker and a group of Death Eaters floated above the pensieve. 

"Ssssnape!" Voldemort motioned to the muggle man cowering in the centre of the group. "Kill him." 

Harry was sure that even a very brain damaged Lucien would not go that far, but Lucien stepped out of the circle. He held a knife to the man's face and handed him a phial. "Drink!" 

The muggle man swallowed the potion fast, and fell down dead seconds later. 

The images continued to appear above the pensieve with progressively less and less clarity. All Harry could see were fleeting glimpses of a past which made no sense and frightening sense at the same time. A past that had turned Mervidith Snape from a contented young mother into a battered woman; a jovial, curious child into a dour shadow of a man; and a caring, loving father and husband into a violent, abusive man. The scenes eventually became impossible to follow and nearly incomprehensible. The gradual degeneration of Lucien's mind was markedly evident.

* * *

Harry looked to Lucien, expecting him to continue. Instead, Lucien had his ghostly head lowered in shame, tears falling silently on his hands in his lap, as he knelt on the floor. "I'm so sorry, Sevvie. And I apologise to you as well, Harry." 

"Grandfather..." Harry leaned into Lucien's side. "So this all happened, because you couldn't get the things you needed to brew the Amorvi...Amorvir" 

"Amorvirtutisumbra Vivosvoco." Lucien wiped his eyes on his sleeve and slid into a seated position, dropping the pensieve and spilling a small quantity of the contents on the floor. "I am such a fool! The price for the ingredients... I could not foresee how high the price would ultimately be!" 

"Oh father, I didn't know!! All this time, I always believed you joined the Death Eaters because you were inherently cruel." Severus said, stumbling out of the bed. "If only you could have told me!" 

"There was so much I wanted to say to you for years, Sevvie...Severus. So much I wanted to tell you. But I wish I had had the ability to listen to you more while I lived." Lucien said, approaching his son slowly on the floor as the pensieve continued to display broken images from a past Severus could only recall parts of. "When you believed me to be dead, and you were about to bury me. I could still hear you. I heard you say: 'I love you, dad! I may have been a big disappointment to you, but I tried. I really did, and no matter what, I love you dad.' Severus, I know I've treated you horribly, unfairly so! But let me assure you, my son, I do love you. I always have, even when I lost the ability to show you. And you are NOT a disappointment to me. You never were, in spite of what I may have said. I regret that I never told you this when you seemed to need it most, but I am proud of you. I was proud of you then, and I am proud of you now." 

Harry expected Severus to chafe at his father's praise. Instead, it appeared as though a weight Severus had been forced to bear for too long was lifted; now his father carried the burden with him. 

Lucien put a hand on Severus's shoulder. "You rose above your horrid upbringing and became one of the best students Hogwarts has ever had. My faulty brain could only see your weaknesses then, but I was still proud of who you were. You were my son! Blood may not..." 

"Hold father." Severus interrupted. "Since you've brewed the Amorvirtutisumbra Vivosvoco, using your own flesh, you are a part of me now." 

Harry stopped to think about it. "So if the phoenix heart had healing properties...yet the potion both heals and regenerates... your flesh helped regenerate the parts of them that were too damaged to be rebuilt with the healing potion alone." 

"That is a lovely way to think of it." Lucien nodded to Harry. "But the other agents used in the potion suppress the markers in my flesh so that their immune systems would not reject..." 

"Still, it was your flesh that provided the raw materials so they could rebuild their own tissues, so you are part of them." Harry argued. "And a part of me." 

Severus's voice took on a very odd intonation. "John and Jephthah Potter were not potions masters, yet I had an interest in potions similar to yours. Even though you cast me from the labs, and would no longer encourage me, I still followed in your path and became a potion master myself." 

"And you grew up to be one of the best potions masters in the entire UK." Lucien hesitantly put his other hand on Severus's shoulder, and to his relief, Severus not only didn't pull away, but he returned a tentative embrace. "And you've become a wonderful father yourself, in spite of how poor an example you had." 

"I am not a wonderful father. Although I believe myself to be just an adequate father." Severus tried to pull away, but Lucien would not release him. 

"No you're not!" Harry protested joining in the huddle, thereby forcing Lucien and Severus even closer to one another. "You are a GREAT father! As a teenager, I had some trouble seeing you that way, but I'm glad I'm a child again because now I can see things differently, more purely and clearly than before. And I know you're a great father." 

"You have so much wisdom to see your father as he truly is." Lucien stated. "If you're this brilliant as a child, what must you be like as a teen with a more mature brain to process information with?" 

Harry found it odd that Severus had not protested to being praised, and thought that it was one of the rare occasions that Severus had been too moved to do so. After a few moments, Severus turned to Harry. "Now that your body can tolerate magic again, would you like to be reaged?" 

"Uh..." Harry began. 

"Sevvie...the mark!" Lucien gasped as he sensed the mark on his son's arm glowing against his shoulder. 

"He's summoning..." Severus gasped. 

"THAT BLOODY BASTARD!" Harry yelled before covering his mouth in surprise. He could not believe he had used such an expletive, and he braced himself for reprimands from both his father and grandfather. 

None came. Lucien gently helped Severus to his feet and walked him to one of the bedrooms. 

"Father, I must go back to Snape Manor Two for my..." said Severus. 

"There is no time. The Dark Lord will hurt you for any delay." Lucien pulled some clothes out of the closet, and quickly shrank them to fit his son's lithe body. "You may use my clothes and my Death Eater mask." 

"Very well," Severus nodded, quickly throwing off the oversized nightshirt and reaching for the clothes Lucien had laid out for him. 

Harry stomped into the room after his grandfather and father, seething with anger. Voldemort must have known the Interventio Interferous potion would have worn off around that time, and the evil wizard had wasted no time in summoning Severus. And for what? More punishments? More tortures? To restock the potions supplies? Like a house elf for him to command?! LIKE A RUDDY SLAVE? 

While Severus was occupied with the doing up the many buttons of the white shirt, Lucien covertly muttered an incantation over his old Death Eater mask, which had laid unused for over seventeen years. When Severus reached for the white frock coat, which was identical to the coats he ordinarily wore, except for the fact that it was white, Harry grabbed it. "I don't want you to go!" Harry shouted. 

"Harry, I do not wish to leave, as there are still matters to discuss here. But I cannot stay." Severus replied, easily pulling the coat from the little boy and putting it on. 

Frightened of what Voldmort would do to his father, Harry jumped on Severus's back and pulled the still weakened man to the floor. Once Severus was down, Harry climbed on him and held him with unusual strength for a child. "No! I won't lose you again! No! Nooo! What if the DARK BASTARD hurts you again? What if he kills you?" 

"Harry, he must go." Lucien gently took Harry into his arms. "It will mean his death if he doesn't." 

"It's not fair!" Harry wailed like the small child he was. "It's not fair! It's not fair! FATHER! FATHER!!" 

For once, Severus truly seemed at a loss. He did not want to leave Harry, but he also did not want Voldemort to kill him, thereby leaving Harry without a parent once more. Lucien held Harry in his arms as the child continued to scream for his father. 

Severus sprang to his feet and started running out the door. He fell thrice as he went, for he was still weak from illness. He turned back and nodded to Lucien. "Take care of him for me, father." 

"I will." Lucien nodded, tears welling in his own eyes. He remembered all too well what service to the Death Eaters entailed. 

Although Severus could normally will himself not to cry in front of his father, he could not help it this time. He pulled off the white mask and looked at his father sadly. "Goodbye, father." 

The ghost Lucien smiled in a way that brought back to Severus many repressed memories of his loving father. A caring father he thought was only a product of his own wishful thinking until today. A father who was real, and only lacked a body now. "Farewell, my son." 

Severus tried to put the white mask on, but it would not adhere properly to his face. His face was too moist with tears. He turned to Harry, who still had his own face buried in his grandfather's chest. "Farewell, my son." Severus sobbed before running out of Snape Manor One, across the grounds, and out of the barrier where he apparated away. 

End Part Thirty-Six 


	37. The Road To Hell

**Remembrance and Renewal** by** Nigel Tatsuya** and **Avatar Arkmage**   
Chapter Thirty-Seven: **The Road to Hell**

"AAAAAAAAAAAH!!!" little Harry wailed into his grandfather's shoulder long after Severus had left. "Father! FATHER!" 

Knowing neither what to do or say, Lucien just held Harry and apologized repeatedly. In his own mind, he could do little to reassure even himself. Had Severus been summoned merely because Voldemort needed his potion stores replenished, or would Severus be tortured as Lucien had often been whilst he was alive? 'Of course it would be both!' Lucien mused to himself, remembering his own cruel treatment at the hands of The Dark Lord only too well. 

Voldemort seemed to be able to sense which of his followers were not yet broken, and would mistreat them the most. Although Lucien had been gravely brain damaged, a part of him always remained unbroken, and the Dark Lord would delight in trying to wear away that last trace of what Lucien Snape was before taking the mark. Even on the day he died, Lucien was not completely broken, and possessed a sufficient measure of his fatherly instincts to save Severus from something far worse than he ultimately endured. 

The image of Severus's tearful face emerging from the behind the Death Eater mask a short while before burned itself into Lucien's mind. For a moment, the adult Severus looked not too unlike the child Lucien had nurtured so many years in the past. A brave child. Although Severus had known what was to come, the boy... no the man, faced it with the same quiet dignity he had possessed all his life. 

"Grandfather," Harry scrubbed at his eyes when the worst of his sobbing passed. "Voldie-uh-Mouldyshorts is going to kill him!" 

"I do not believe he will," Lucien said, more to comfort Harry and himself, than because he truly believed it. Voldemort had been the cause of Lucien's death, after all. Would Severus suffer the same fate? 

"HE WILL BE KILLED!" shrieked Harry. "VOLDEMORT is going to be SO ANGRY at father! He couldn't go when the Dark Bas-Lord last summoned him because I wouldn't let him, I didn't want my last parent to die so when we were both in the infirmary, and father was trying to sneak off to The Death Eater meeting, I grabbed him and held on. At the time, I was only 'arrogant Harry Potter' to him, and he struggled to get away from me, and when he did break free, I fell against the railing of one of the beds. When father thought I had broken my neck, he held me in a supported position and no longer tried to go to the Death Eaters that night!" 

Lucien's ghostly eyes widened. He had seen what happened to Death Eaters who failed to come promtly to meetings when summoned. 

"And then I made things worse for father by stealing polyjuice from his labs and kicking Volde-Mouldyshorts's ars-behind!" Harry buried his face once more in Lucien's ghostly hair. "I know I shouldn't have done that, but I wasn't thinking. I was too mad at Voldemort to think! When I saw what the Interventio Interferous potion did to father, I got so mad ... I wanted to kill the Dark Bast-Dark Lord right then. But I've only made things worse for father!!" 

Harry watched Lucien's facial expressions seemingly fight for dominance, ranging the entire gamut from being aghast at Harry's use of the name 'Voldemort,' to shock at Harry's near usage of expletives, to amusement at the thought of his own grandson attacking the Dark Lord and doing some serious damage, to total horror. 

"Have faith in your father, Harry." Lucien said, once again not sounding entirely sure. "He has survived The Dark Lord's wrath this long, he will surely survive this time. The Dark Lord needs his potions master after all..." 

"So even if Voldemort doesn't kill him...he'll still hurt father, won't he?" Harry fretted, taking handfuls of Lucien's white hair and tugging hard on them. "What if he hurts father so badly that father becomes brain damaged like you were when you were still alive?" 

Lucien shuddered. 

Harry pulled back slightly, a brave expression gracing his features. "But...I just want him alive...no matter what. I'm not going to love him any less if he's brain damaged. If father wants to start beating me, I'll try to understand. I'll love him no matter what he does, and if beating me makes him happy, he can do it... I deserve it! I got him into more trouble than he was already in, so yes, I probably deserve it." Even though there were tears in those bright green eyes, the look of determination was unmistakable and unwavering. 

"You don't deserve that! Nothing could justify hurting a child the way I hurt Severus!" Lucien clutched Harry's shoulders firmly, but not enough to cause Harry pain. "And no parent beats their child because it makes them happy to do so...at least I do not believe that to be so... What you saw me do to Sevvie, I did because I had trouble controlling my own actions. I was mad, very brain damaged. Never, and I am sure of this, would your father derive any pleasure from hurting you!" 

"Then..." Harry began sniffling, "...then make me a teenager again. Brew me a re-aging potion! Please grandfather, I can't help father this way. I can't fight Moldyshorts like this! I'm too little, and if father comes home brain damaged and beats me, at least I'll be able to withstand a beating more as a teen." 

"Harry..." words failed. 

"Besides," Harry said, wiping his eyes on his sleeve, "I cry even more than father does now. Mouldyshorts will use that to his advantage! I want to be a teen...no wait, age me even older than that! Make me an adult so I can fight Mouldyshorts as an equal!" 

"Harry...I..." 

"Please, Grandfather! Brew me a re-aging potion so that I can...Aaaaaaagh!" Harry screamed dangerously close to his grandsire's ears. 

Fortunately, because Lucien's ears were no longer organic, Harry's strident cry caused him no pain. "Harry?! What...what's going on? Are you in pain?" 

"That bloody Voldemort!" Harry wailed, obviously sensing something horrendous. "He cursed father. He cast the cruciatus on father!" 

"No!" Lucien exclaimed inwardly, for he remembered every nanosecond that Voldemort had employed the curse on him whilst he was still living. "Condemn you, Dark Lord! Condemn you!"

* * *

Severus pitched backwards onto the stone floor as the cruciatus curse ripped through his body like the materialized shards of Voldemort's wrath. The Dark Lord had cursed him soon after he joined the circle of Death Eaters through the ebony doors of the elegant Montcastle Mansion. Judging from the sheer intensity of the curse, Voldemort was incensed. 

Severus bore the assault in silence, but could not help but note the Dark Lord's enfeebled appearance. It was subtle, but still evident. Apparently, Harry had put him in quite a bad state, and Severus's purposely botched potions healed him only partially, for he lacked the endurance to cast a Cruciatus curse with a particularly long duration. To Severus's relief, the worst of the curse lasted only around twenty seconds and gradually resolved. Before the curse ended fully however, Voldemort pointed his wand at the area over Severus's kidneys and sent a far smaller, though localized Cruciatus curse there. Because Severus often spent a considerable amount of time standing over a caldron, his lower back was already prone to aches, making the explosive pain of the curse all the more difficult to bear. Severus screamed. 

The other robed figures in the room looked on with sadistic pleasure. Severus writhed uncontrollably for what seemed to be a quarter of an hour before the remnants of the curses faded. 

"Get up, Black Sssnake." The Dark Lord hissed, his wand still held at the ready. 

Severus knew not to stand fully; he did not dare to do so in the Dark Lord's presence, instead he shakily rolled onto his knees and settled into a subservient, bowing posture. He lowered his head until his nose was nearly touching the floor. "Yes, Master." 

"Remove your robesss!" Voldemort kicked Severus in the shoulder for emphasis. 

Accustomed to humiliation, as well as pain from the Dark Lord, Severus unfastened his father's black cloak and slid it off his shoulders, revealing the white frock coat, white shirt and trousers beneath. 

Unnoticed by all the other robed figures in the room, Voldemort's breath caught in his throat. Severus had always worn black before. Save for the potion master's shirt and occasionally his undergarments, Voldemort had never seen Severus wearing any colours other than dark grey or black. The only person who customarily dressed head to foot in white, was Severus's father. Why was Severus dressed so much like Lucien Snape now? 

"Everything!" Voldemort ordered, noticing that Severus was taking too much time laying his outer robes aside. 

Soft sniggering, some of which could have easily come from former students of the Slytherin House, filled the room. Severus did not dare anger the Dark Lord any more, and disrobed with all the quiet dignity the situation allowed.. 

Peter Pettigrew, better known to the others in the room as 'Wormtail,' led the chorus of giggling at Severus and made derisive comments about his former rival's nearly emaciated body and other perceived inadequacies. As Severus removed each item of clothing, Peter gleefully kicked it away from him; he loved the idea of Snivellus crawling across the room like an animal to retrieve his clothes once he was granted permission to get dressed again. 

"Fluffing yourself, aren't you, Snivellus?" Peter mocked, his gaze moving lower as Severus removed his undergarments. 

"If I were indeed 'fluffing,' which I can assure you I am not doing intentionally," Severus sneered, his voice barely audible as his own night-sky black eyes joined Peter's below his own navel. "At least the body part in question is meant to be 'fluffed.' Unlike you, Pettigrew, as you are more accustomed to fluffing the sparse contents of your skull, your non-existent muscles, your ego..." 

Voldemort silenced Severus with a firm slap to his cheek, then followed it immediately with an even harder slap to the opposite one. "You were not given permissssion to sspeak, Darkling." 

Some of the laugher in the room dissipated, and was replaced by horrified murmuring. Severus's body appeared wretched and pitiful. Even Peter's amusement seemed to wane at the very sight. The weeks of injury and the haemorrhagic fever had taken their toll on the potion master, whose hands seemed to tremble under the instinct to preserve what little sense of modesty he had left. Wisely, Severus held his hands up high in surrender, as he continued to kneel on the floor in obsequiousness. 

Voldemort circled Severus slowly, appraising every scar, marking and feature on his potion master's gangly body. "Even though you were forced to heal without the use of magic, you've sssspent sssome time in the sssun, I gather." Voldemort motioned to the tan lines, causing Wormtail and the other Death Eaters to snicker softly once more. 

"Yes master." Snape replied flatly. It had been a blessing in disguise that Severus had been stricken with haemorrhagic fever only days before. The aggressive disease had caused him to lose even more weight from his already thin frame, and had rendered his newly tanned skin the colour of soured milk. Severus knew he looked about as wretched as a wounded person forced to bear the Interventio Interferous potion in his body would be expected to be. 

Voldemort grabbed Severus's left wrist and jerked his arm sharply, watching in satisfaction as Severus winced. "Your arm was reattached using muggle techniquesss wassn't it, Darkling?" Voldemort examined the faint scarring at Severus's elbow, which looked vaguely like a seam. "Ssssewed on like the arm of a doll. How...crude." 

Severus exaggerated his reaction to the rough handling,and even moaned in pain when Voldemort twisted his arm. Severus knew Voldemort was doing this in part, to be sure that he was indeed Severus Snape, and not a polyjuiced imposter with Severus's arm this time; but also for the purpose of causing him pain and mortification. 

Voldemort waved his wand over Severus to check for evidence of polyjuice use, but found none. His serpentine eyes narrowed as he traced his wand over a few healed incisions in Severus's lower abdominal and inguinal regions. "Ssso, you've experienced some of the muggle'sss cruder healing techniquesss." 

Severus nodded, remembering how excruciatingly painful it had been when Poppy Pomfrey slowly repaired the damage caused by Crabbe and Goyle Sr. The agony from the treatment had been so intense that he lost consciousness a few times. 

His dark eyes moved longingly to his undergarments discarded on the floor. Wormtail noticed, and stomped on the white items. Voldemort nodded to Wormtail then regarded his potion master maliciously. "Oh no, you'll not be allowed to get dressssed just yet, Black Ssssnake. I have not yet finished with you." 

Though Severus steeled his features, he could feel himself trembling inwardly. Strangely, these were not the after-effects of the Cruciatus curse. Severus surmised that the apprehension originating from deep within him was not his own, but that of a young child. 

Harry! 

Harry had been observing the proceedings of the night. Severus could feel the boy's presence even more strongly, now that he was mindful of it. Alas, there were some matters he did not wish to share with his son. 

"This is is not for you, Harry," Severus spoke in his mind. Although his skill as an occlumens allowed him to guard against intrusions from anyone who tried to spy on his thoughts and experiences, he was not sure how, or if it were even possible to defend against all spying through the powerful spiritual bond he shared with Harry. He tried nonetheless, and channelled all the strength he possessed to close his mind. 

"Now, Darkling." Voldemort clutched Severus's chin and forcefully raised his head, forcing Severus to gaze upon the still-healing fractures on Voldemort's reptilian cheekbones. "Look at my face. You'll note that I've sssussstained injuriesss since your last summoning..." 

Not sure whether or not he had been granted permission to speak, Snape just feigned more confusion and concern than he actually felt. 

"My assssailant," Voldemort went on, "not only bore your appearance, but your blood as well." 

Sensing that Voldemort would have his answers at any cost, Severus braced himself and only stared with the most perplexed expression he could conjure. 

"Now," Voldemort moved the tip of his wand so that it was just millimetres away from Severus's left cornea. "We will discusssss your progeny, Darkling..."

* * *

"He forced me away!" Harry sobbed. For the past few minutes he had been concentrating on his father, observing events at the Death Eater meeting, and reporting all that he saw to his grandfather. Now he could detect not even his father's presence. 

"Had Severus been watching me at a Death Eater meeting, I would have done the same." Lucien stated, levitating Harry into his arms and carrying him to the kitchen. "Come, I will make some drinkable chocolate." 

"Chocolate?!" Harry asked in astonishment. "How can you think about chocolate at a time like this?" 

"It would not do for you to cause yourself illness with worry." Lucien replied. "And you need to keep your strength up if you wish to fight the Dark Lord." 

Lucien withdrew a special cauldron from the cupboard and ignited a fire beneath it. Harry noted that the caldron looked as though it had a layer of copper beneath it, and when heated, the copper layer separated off the bottom of the caldron, forming a cushion of steam between it and the levitating caldron above. Lucien then vanished briefly and reappeared, bearing a burlap bag labelled 'roasted cacao beans' and a bottle of cream.

* * *

Harry resumed his attempt at reestablishing a connection with his father, but found time and again that he could not. In the end, Harry just sat silently and watched his grandfather add raw cane sugar, extracts and other ingredients he could not readily identify to the ground cacao bean mixture bubbling gently in the caldron. When Lucien was satisfied with the results, he decanted the rich chocolate liquid into two mugs, stirred in some of the heavy cream and topped it with even more of the cream and some finely ground cacao beans. 

He gave one mug to Harry, summoned Rastus and gave him the other mug, then joined them at the table after taking an empty mug for himself. 

"Drink all of it." Lucien instructed, putting the empty mug to his ghostly lips. "It would seem that you both need it." 

Because it sounded like a direct order, Rastus did as he was told. Harry sniffed the beverage skeptically, before concluding that it looked and smelled very much like muggle hot cocoa...only stronger. The flavour could best be described as miraculous. The freshly ground, roasted cacao made the taste much bolder than ordinary cocoa, yet the sugar and heavy cream rendered it extremely pleasant tasting. 

"It's good!" Harry exclaimed, swallowing more of the delicious beverage as quickly as he could without scalding his tongue. 

"I am glad you like it. It used to be your father's favourite drink as well when he was a young child. You may not have seen this when you were outside of your body," Lucien said, curiously watching Harry's eyes, "but I've often made this drink for your father and grandmother. I was quite fond of it myself, and seeing them both enjoying something so much was a pleasure." He exhaled heavily. 

Harry began sniffling and put his cup down. "Maybe I'd better not drink all of this. Father will need it more when he comes back..." Harry started whimpering in earnest, "If he comes back at all, he'll need this drink more than I do." 

Lucien put the mug back into Harry's hand. "He will come home! I swear it!" Lucien would make sure of it...as soon as he could find a way to both escape from Snape Manor and from Harry. As much as he loved his grandson, he wanted to keep Harry out of the line of fire for as long as he could. "Go on, drink your fill. I've always purchased large quantities of roasted cacao beans and heavy cream along with my potions supplies each month whilst I lived and stored them away in the vault. You can have as much of this drink as you like. I will prepare a fresh batch for your father when he arrives home." 

Harry wiped at his eyes and finished his cup. "Grandfather, will you please brew me a re-aging potion?" 

"Have more chocolate first." Lucien said, ignoring Harry's question and trying to distract Harry at the same time. He ladled more of the rich chocolate from the caldron. 

"Yes, I love this...uhhhh...oh, I feel so sleepy all of a sudden. Grandfather, can I please have some re-aging potion...oh...uh... I'm so tired! I can't..." Harry's green eyes crossed, rolled back and finally closed as he slumped against the kitchen table. 

"Master Lucien!" Rastus gasped, his amber coloured eyes crossing similarly as he looked into his own empty mug. "What has happened to Young Snape?" 

"Nothing more than the effects of a dose of the dream-inhibiting sleep potion." Lucien replied, lifting both Harry and Rastus into his arms and carrying them to the bedrooms. "Both of you have had a harrowing day and require sleep unencumbered by dreams." 

"Master Lucien, if Rastus is sleeping, how will he tend Young Snape?" Rastus fretted. 

"Fear not," Lucien whispered. "This potion only works fully on pure humans. Your elfin blood renders this potion only as effective as a mild sleeping draft with a dream suppressant. Should Harry require your assistance in my absence, you'll be able to wake without undue difficulty." 

The octarelf began whimpering. "In your absence? Master Lucien! Master Severus has instructed Rastus to not allow Master Lucien's ghost to leave Snape Manor One!" 

"That is why I've had to sedate you." Lucien spelled the duvet off one of the large beds and replaced it with light blankets, better suited for the warm Summer weather. "You'll not be able to stop me from leaving. Rest assured though, that I am only doing this to help Severus. I have no intention of hurting him again." 

Once he put Harry and Rastus to bed, he whispered softly to their sleeping forms. "Forgive me, both of you. But the chocolate beverage is also one of the best methods for disguising the flavour of potions. I've fed Severus and Mervidith many a healing potion in just that manner." Lucien tucked the covers around Harry's small body. "You would not have slept had I not done this. And even so, you would have been plagued by unpleasant visions, courtesy of the Dark Lord." 

Lucien retrieved Harry's wand from the night stand, where Harry had left it on the previous night after putting his memory of Draco into Lucien's pensieve. "Harry, I've promised that your father would return." Lucien floated over to a large open window at the opposite end of the room. He raised Harry's wand and drew a giant circle in the air, hoping he would be able to cast a spell using the wand, since his own magic was not effective against the powerful wards Severus had cast upon Snape Manor nearly seventeen years ago. 

Because Lucien was not entirely compatible with Harry's wand, incantation after incantation failed. The first spell only caused the invisible barriers to tremble, while the second rebounded explosively into the room and crashed loudly through the floor. The next few attempts caused the wards to creak and groan loudly like a structure under the onslaught of a powerful storm. 

"How fortunate that you are both in a potion induced sleep." Lucien commented to Harry and Rastus. "It is sufficiently noisy in here to rouse even the dead." 

Severus had been in a bad emotional state when he first cast the wards, and they were especially resistant to Lucien's efforts to break them. Still, Lucien immediately attempted to break down the wards without the aid of a wand. Eventually, after more than seven years, Lucien resolved himself to being imprisoned in his own manor for all time. 

Lucien wanted to get out now, and hoped beyond hope that magic, however unfocussed and unpredictable, cast through Harry's wand would be successful. After several more spells which shot from Harry's wand like a bizarre fireworks display, Lucien took a deep breath and shouted: "Concordia discors!" This time, the wand fired like a great undulation cannon. The wards began to flicker, and large, fiery fissures began to appear randomly. While Lucien had not been able to remove the wards completely, he had successfully caused a profound disruption in their integrity. When a small fault began to appear just out of the open window, Lucien replaced Harry's wand on the nightstand and quickly sprang through the tiny fault. 

For the first time since his death, Lucien felt what could best be described as extreme discomfort. Although he had been able to pass through the fault, part of his right elbow, right hip and most of his right leg had come in contact with a jagged projection of the disrupted wards as he descended two stories to the ground. 

Unhurt from the fall itself, but somewhat shaky due to the passage through the powerful wards, Lucien looked down at himself and realized that part of his elbow, hip and leg were gone. They were not just invisible, but gone. Although Lucien felt no pain, and did not suffer the ill effects a typical individual missing parts of his body would, he could not make them reappear. The projection from the wards had damaged his magical core. 

Lucien tried to walk toward the tree leading out of the grounds of Snape Manor, but found he could not; for he no longer had his right foot or indeed most of his right leg with which to walk. "I guess I'll have to travel like a true ghost then, good job the wards didn't go through my head!" Lucien said to no one in particular, as he turned himself completely invisible, flew to the tree and floated out of the grounds of Snape Manor for the first time since he had become a ghost. 

"Sevvie, what a dutiful son you are to wear my old Death Eater mask despite the horrific memories you must associate with it. Or...did you know about the tracking spell I've placed on it?" Lucien raised his arm in the air. "Even if there are anti-apparation wards on your location, and I am certain there are, I will still be able to find you, my son. Anti-apparation wards work on the living, not the dead!" Lucien closed his eyes and concentrated his magic on the mask on his son's face. "Dirige nos!"

* * *

Draco threw what must have been the hundred and forty-seventh heavy tome aside and stomped back to the tall shelves. After grabbing another, larger stack of books from the high shelf, he hobbled back to the black leather sofa he had spent the greater part of the day at. Since the early afternoon, Draco had been in the grand libraries of Malfoy Mansion, hoping to learn more about portkeys as well as how to create them. Even as midnight approached, Draco was still no closer to his goal of learning the methods of making a portkey. He did however know a considerable amount about their history and why they would be useful, but as far as Draco was concerned, that information was as useful to him as a vegetable garden would be to a carnivore. 

"Taric!" Draco called irritably after a while more. 

"Yes sir, young Malfoy sir?" An elf with big green eyes said as he scuttled into the room. 

"Taric, I need your help, " Draco stated, reclining on the louge and wresting his forearm across his brows. 

"Anything sir, what does young Malfoy want Taric to do?" The elf asked, bowing before the pale boy. 

Draco sat up and handed the tiny elf three large texts. "I want you to help me read through these books and find whatever you can on the creation of portkeys." 

The house elf began shivering. He gingerly placed the stack of books on a nearby table and backed away. 

"Are you refusing to do as I say?" Draco scowled. 

"Oh no sir, Young Malfoy. Taris will never refuse willingly, sir!" Taric whimpered. "But Taric may not to do illegal deeds." 

Besee, who had been watering one of the potted plants in the library, bowed dutifully to Draco and turned to leave the library. Draco beckoned her. "Besee, come here." 

"Yes, Young Malfoy, sir?" 

Draco handed Besee three tomes. "I want you both to help me read through these books..." 

Before Draco had finished, Besee began whimpering, her big, cerulean blue eyes wide with horror. "Young Malfoy, house elves is not supposed to be reading books." 

"We is not supposed to be learning about magic too." Taric added. 

"House elves is not supposed to disobey my commands!" Draco drawled in a house-elf like accent. "While there are laws against teaching house elves to read or study magic, this is our home. And we can do as we please in our own home! No one has to know what we do here right? It is none of their business!" 

Taric and Besee were both too afraid to disagree with Draco. 

"Besides, we Malfoys don't teach our elves to read for nothing." Draco said, remembering how he, having no one to play with as a small child, often played with the house elves. He even made them sit in desks and pretend to be students while he 'taught' them to read. "Tell me the truth, you two. I thought I was teaching you and the other elves to read when we played 'school' when I was a little boy. But you're both older than my great grandmother Dracaenas! I'm sure I must not have been the first Malfoy heir to teach you to read, am I right?" 

Taric and Besee exchanged nervous glances. 

"That's what I thought." Draco smirked. "You were just pretending to learn when you've known how to read all along!" 

Besee nodded, raised her spindly fingers and produced a walking stick with a viper on it's handle and handed it to Draco. Both Besee and Taric turned away from Draco, leaned over and raised the hems of their pillow cases, exposing their backs. 

"What?!" Draco threw the stick into a nearby shelf in disgust. "I don't want to beat you! What would I do that for anyway? Because you played along with me when I was a kid? Because you can read when house elves are forbidden to? Because you won't follow my commands because you'd rather not break the law? What do you think I am? A spoilt prat from 1848?" 

"No sir, Besee would not ever think or say anything against Besee's family. Besee does not think Young Malfoy is a spoilt prat." 

"Then I am giving you both a command." Draco flung the stacks of books back into their arms. "You're going to help me look for information on creating portkeys!" 

Taric opened his mouth to protest, but Draco scowled him into silence. 

Both elves bowed and sat on the floor next to the sofa Draco was seated upon. Dutifully, they opened the tomes and began reading. 

Draco leaned back on the sofa and tried to concentrate on the tome in his lap, but found he could not, for he had already been reading for too many hours. He put the tome down and stood from the sofa. 

"Does Young Malfoy want anything?" Besee and Taric asked at the same time. 

"Yes, I want you two to keep reading until you find something." Draco said, walking out of the library. 

A house elf clad in a tea cozy came running out of the kitchens. "Is Young Malfoy wanting something to eat?" 

"Sure, Dolfi." Draco replied, letting the aged elf lead him into the dining room. 

The kitchen elves had apparently anticipated Draco's response, for the table was bedecked in a way that would rival the tables at any of the feasts at Hogwarts. There were roasted pheasants, hams, bread stuffings, dinner rolls, boiled lobsters, mashed potatoes, sirloin steaks, fresh tossed greens, and any dessert Draco had ever mentioned liking. 

"Wha-?" Draco said, sitting at his setting at the table. "How am I supposed to eat all of this?!" 

"Young Draco has not eaten all day." Dolfi replied. "Dolfi thinks Draco will be very hungry." 

"Of course I'd be hungry enough to eat all of this," Draco sneered, "if I were Takeru Kobayashi!" 

"What is a Takeru Kobayashi?" Dolfi asked, serving Draco some bisque. 

"You mean who is Takeru Kobayashi. He's a competitive eater." Draco replied, remembering a hot dog eating contest he had watched on an international network. "I saw him on a muggle telly. He can eat fifty frankfurters in less than 15 minutes." 

Dolfi was momentarily overcome with envy over the house elves who served this Takeru. Surely a boy who could eat that much could only have been a magical person. 

Seeing all the food before him, Draco heart grew heavy. If neither Lucius, nor Narcissa, nor Draco specified what they wanted for their meal, the elves would prepare virtually anything they knew the Malfoys enjoyed eating. Narcissa was especially fond of lobster served with clarified butter, and Lucius enjoyed a variety of flavourful bread stuffings with his meals. Draco could hardly stand to look at the food now that his parents were gone. 

"Besee! Taric! Moira! Gyl!" Draco called until he had summoned all the house elves currently serving in Malfoy Mansion into the dining room. 

They lined themselves before him in disciplined ranks and bowed in unison. 

"Every one of you," Draco addressed them, "join me at the table." 

The elves started to protest as to why it was not proper for them to do that, but Draco shouted them into submission with a firm: "NOW!" 

"I will explain what a competitive eating contest is to all of you," Draco simpered at each elf in turn. "And then, we are going to compete...!"

* * *

Severus did not remember all the events of the night, and wasn't sure whether that should have unnerved or pleased him. He came to full awareness whilst standing over several caldrons in a huge laboratory. Strike that, he was not standing, but being supported by two cloaked Death Eaters. He was not sure he was strong enough to stand on his own accord. His body ached everywhere. Severus blinked his heavy lidded eyes, and realized that his face was covered in drying blood. 

The events slowly returned to him as he took in more of this surroundings and the throbbing in his body. Earlier, Voldemort had probed him for information about the son Severus allegedly had. Each time Severus denied any knowledge of an offspring, Voldemort employed the localized version of the Cruciatus curse. Because Voldemort himself was not fully healed, he soon became too fatigued to continue casting the curses, but not too fatigued to stop the interrogation. Severus had been allowed no respite, for Voldemort quickly turned to the other Death Eaters in the room and delegated the task of torturing to them. "Employ the localized Cruciatussss cursssse where you feel it would be the mosssst... effective." The Dark Lord had instructed. 

A sharp slap brought Severus back to the present. "You are to replenisssh the ssstores of potionsss here," Voldemort commanded, handing Severus a thick roll of parchment. "You are to be allowed no food or ressst until you have completed all the potionsss I require." 

The two Death Eaters, who had been holding Severus upright, released him. Greatly weakened, and in great pain, Severus collapsed upon the stone floor. 

"Get up, Darkling!" The Dark Lord hissed. "Did I not tell you that you would be allowed no rest until your work was concluded?" 

"Yes, Master." Severus hastily scrambled to his trembling feet, colliding several times with the other robed figures, the counters, and the shelves as he did so. He noted groggily that the buttons on his shirt and frock coat were done up wrong, his socks were cuffed, his shoes were not properly on his feet, and that his trousers were only pulled up to his hips; Severus concluded that he either had not dressed himself, or else he wasn't in the right mind to have done so properly. 

"Bivensss here will ssserve as both your guard and your assisssstant should you require either." Voldemort said before leaving the room. 

The bedraggled potions master immediately began his work at the caldrons. He gasped in agony as he hobbled to the supply cabinets and gathered the items he would require. Sharp pains shot through Severus's legs with each step he took, for one of the masked Death Eaters had used the Cruciatus on the soles of his feet. The Dark Lord had instructed the Death Eaters not to do anything to Severus that would render him incapable of completing his tasks as potions master... perhaps the one who did this failed to see how inhibiting Severus's ability to walk would do just that?! 

Bivens squawked at Severus when he lay across the desk to prepare the ingredients, but Severus turned on him. "Then perhaps you'd like to explain to The Dark Lord why you are preventing my from completing my duties?" Severus pulled off his shoes and socks, revealing his bruised and grossly inflamed feet. "As you can plainly see, Bivens. I am incapable of standing for prolonged durations. Unless of course, you are volunteering to hold me upright for the next few hours or so." 

Bivens averted his eyes, and said nothing more. Severus picked up one of the sharpened blades and began chopping, cringing as waves of pain raced through his arm with each slice. Peter Pettigrew, who had always been jealous of Professor Severus Snape's dexterity, intelligence and usefulness to The Dark Lord's cause, had sent a localized Cruciatus directly into Severus's wrist. Although Voldemort had in turn cursed Pettigrew for potentially compromising Severus's ability to fulfil his duties as a potion master, it offered little comfort to Severus now. The damage was done. His wrist would hurt with each fall of the pestle, and each stroke of his knife for the next few days. 

Unseen by either Bivens or Severus, Lucien descended through the ceiling into the spacious labs of Montcastle Mansion. It had taken him longer than he anticipated to follow the faint signature from his Death Eater mask. Because his passage through the wards of Snape Manor left him magically wounded, he could not properly apparate, so he was relegated to flying after the Mask's signature many kilometres North of Snape Manor. Thankfully, Lucien found that spirits, even with missing limbs, could fly great distances rapidly. By the time he arrived at Montcastle Mansion nearly two hours later, he estimated that he had flown all the way to somewhere in the South of Scotland. 

It had been a profound disappointment to only find the mask, which lay upon the outer robes Lucien had given Severus to wear, in the parlour in the first level of the Mansion. Lucien searched each room, but saw no sign of Severus among the Death Eaters. Even when he explored the level below the ground floor of the Mansion, he found no one in the many cavernous rooms, which Lucien concluded were built for the purpose of aging wines and cheeses as well as for shelter during those dangerous times when the Muggles were at war. 

The laboratories of Montcastle Mansion were built two floors below the ground level of the structure. Lucien could only watch Severus as he laboured over the many cauldrons in the windowless room. Every motion seemed to cause him great pain as he hobbled from one activity to the next. 

"Sevvie..." Lucien said, weeping in silence, watching invisibly from behind one of the shelves in the large room, "oh Sevvie I'm so sorry." It had been very difficult for Lucien to work after being brutally assaulted by Voldemort and/or the Death Eaters. It was infinitely harder to watch Severus having to endure that same fate. Although Lucien hadn't been tortured on every occasion he was summoned, he had still been hurt quite often. How often was Severus the target of Voldemort's physical and mental attacks? 

When Bivens eventually grew bored and dozed off, Lucien quietly prepared some of the ingredients Severus would need, while being very careful not to let his presence be known. He would have liked to have helped more, but decided that helping Severus complete his work as quickly as possible was all that could be done. 

Severus was perplexed to find the graphorn horn, the runespoor eggs and ashwinder eggshells already prepared on the counter. He had not prepared them. Could Bivens have helped him, even though the man seemed to not know the difference between gillyweed and an algal bloom? 

When Lucien had pulverized the last of the kukui nut, and saw that Severus would not be needing more ingredients prepared for at least an hour or so, he decided to help Severus fulfill his duties as a spy. He ascended to the ground floor and crept into the drawing room where Voldemort and a few of the Death Eaters were meeting. 

Still invisible, Lucien floated near the ceiling of the room and grudgingly put to memory all that was discussed in the meeting, including accounts of the raids some of the Death Eaters had conducted that evening, plans for forthcoming attacks, and the acquisition of monies to fund their operations. 

All the while, Lucien had to refrain from picking up a lamp and smashing it over either Voldemort and/or his minions' heads. He also pushed back thoughts of following Harry and Severus back to Hogwarts and putting a powerful cathartic into Headmaster Dumbledore's goblet. He hated that Severus was to be a slave to Voldemort until either he or Voldemort died. Lucien also hated that Severus was a spy for that old Gryffindor-loving fool Professor Dumbledore. 

As far as Lucien was concerned, Albus Dumbledore cared only for the spoilt individuals from the Gryffindor house. It was doubtful that he cared at all for Severus Snape the man, as much as he did for Severus Snape the spy. Severus hadn't been a Gryffindor, after all. 

James Potter and his cronies bullied Severus mercilessly from their first days at Hogwarts. Severus had sent an owl to Mervidith shortly after the year began, telling of his mistreatment at the hands of James and his friend Sirius. Lucien remembered grabbing the parchment from Mervidith's hands and reading the letter. He noticed that the parchment had random splotches of dried blood and that the ink was smudged in many places, indicating that Severus had not only been bleeding, but had also been crying when he wrote the owl. 

Lucien crumpled the letter and owled Severus back. He had told Severus to fight back and to teach James Potter to leave him alone, or Severus would get worse when he returned home the following summer. 

Lucien lowered his head in shame when he recalled how he had beat Severus for not fighting back more strongly against James Potter and his tagalong friends. After Severus's fifth year, he had even beaten the poor boy so badly that he had lost consciousness. 

In retrospect, Lucien regretted not having the sense to put Professor Dumbledore in his place for letting the Gryffindor boys off so lightly for all the things they did to his son . Professor Dumbledore knew exactly what had been transpiring, for he himself had often owled Lucien and Mervidith when Severus had been injured or had committed an infraction against the rules. 

Had James ended up in Slytherin, and Severus in Gryffindor, James would have been expelled for his antics long before he even returned for his second year at Hogwarts. 

And Lucien could not forget Severus's nightmares following the werewolf incident... 

Lucien forced himself to focus on the proceedings of the Death Eater meeting once more. There would be time enough for revenge later. If Severus insisted on spying for the old windbag, he would honour his son's wishes, however much he himself disapproved of them. Helping the old windbag was far more tolerable a deed than to willingly accept enslavement to Voldemort, after all. 

"What about Lucius Malfoy." Goyle asked. 

"I am aware of the ssssituation." Voldemort hissed and waved his wand threateningly at behemoth man. "As vital as he is to our operations here, we'll not be able to orchestrate his escape from Azkaban for at least a few weekss or sssso." 

It made sense to Lucien. As high a profile criminal as Lucius Malfoy, or anyone from the Malfoy clan would be, The Daily Prophet and any other wizarding news agencies would have scouts prowling all routes to and from Azkaban Prison, hoping to be the first to report on any attempts to break him out, or on him escaping on his own. They would also be watching for the appearance of any members of the Malfoy clan, who would surely attempt to visit and/or try to aid Lucius Malfoy's escape. Surely any Death Eater activity to set him free would be front page newsworthy. 

Lucien returned to the labs to assist Severus after most of the other Death Eaters left Montcastle Mansion either for their homes, or for further raids. It was nearly three o'clock in the morning when Voldemort, Wormtail and a few other masked figures entered the labs, startling Bivens to full consciousness. 

"How much have you done?" The Dark Lord hissed. 

Severus bowed dutifully and showed Voldemort the parchment, which had roughly half of its items crossed off. 

"Very well done, Black Sssnake." The Dark Lord nodded approvingly. "Have you finissshed my healing potions? I would like a dossse now." 

"Yes, Master." Severus hobbled to a nearby shelf and handed Voldemort one of the vials of purposely botched healing draft. The Dark Lord swallowed it down quickly. 

"You have done well, Darkling." Voldemort paused, a look of tranquillity graced his reptilian face as the healing potion began to work in earnest. "You are one of the only, if not the only, potion master who has the level of proficiency to brew a healing draft which works with my unique physiology." 

Severus bowed once more. 

Without warning, Voldemort cast a Legilimens spell on Severus's still bowed head. Because Severus was gravely weakened from both the torture from his bout with haemorrhagic fever, he was ill prepared to defend himself.

* * *

A fifteen year old Severus was nervously unpacking his school trunk in his childhood room in Snape Manor one. He was still clad in his Hogwarts uniform. 

"Damn you for a fool, boy!" Lucien thundered, as he entered Severus's room. 

"Wait, father!" Severus said, slowly backing away. "Please allow me to explai-" 

Lucien punched his son squarely in the jaw, sending the teen sprawling onto the floor. "I am not interested in your excuses!" 

"But...!" Severus held his face, blood trickling from between his slender fingers. 

"You knew the consequences of your actions. You will learn to retaliate even if I must beat it into you!" Lucien undid his belt and pulled it from the loops of his white trousers. 

"Oh please don't, father!" Severus begged, "Ow!" Lucien grabbed a handful of Severus's long black hair and forced him to lay with his torso on his desk. 

"Lucien SNAPE!" yelled Mervidith, who hobbled into the room holding a large, bloody compress on her head. Severus concluded immediately that she must have tried to stop Lucien earlier and he had beaten her as well. "Don't beat him! He's already suffered enough! We haven't had our Sevvie home with us for ten months! We should celebrate that he's home! How can you do this to him?" 

"Get out!" Lucien struck Severus between the shoulder blades to stay him, then threw Mervidith against the wall. 

"I won't let YOU hurt him!" Mervidith screeched as she punched and kicked at Lucien. 

"I'll not let you coddle him!" Lucien shouted back, forcing Mervidith back into the hallway with a barrage of fists. 

"Mother!" Severus whimpered, running between his parents, taking a few blows to his own body, and trying to carry Mervidith to safety before Lucien killed her. 

"I distinctly remember instructing you to stay there!" Lucien grabbed Severus's green and silver-striped tie and collar and threw him against the desk. 

"Sevvie!" Mervidith screeched, running past Lucien and enfolding Severus in her arms. 

"No wonder our son is incapable of fighting back properly!" Lucien hauled Mervidith to her feet and threw her out of Severus's room once more. "You're always coddling him." 

"You want me to fight?" Severus ran in front of Mervidith to shield her from a particularly hard blow. While still dazed, Severus wound up and smashed his fist into the side of Lucien's head. 

"That's it!" Lucien replied, an odd look of pride gracing his pale features. "Go on, try it once more." 

Severus took another swing at Lucien, but this time Lucien was prepared for it and blocked it with very little effort. He ducked a third blow, tackled Severus around the waist and slammed him into the ballustrade. Knowing that Lucien was too strong, and had both a height and weight advantage over him, Severus tried to run away. 

"You'll have to put more effort into a proper fight!" Lucien held Severus down and beat him relentlessly. "Come on, boy! Defend yourself! Show me what you'll do to James Potter the next time he tries to show your private parts to all your peers at Hogwarts." 

"Stop it! You're going to kill him!" Mervidith screamed. She picked up a chair and broke it over Lucien's back. 

The violence continued until both Mervidith and Severus lay unconscious on the floor. When Severus came to, Lucien threw him back onto the surface of his desk and beat him pitilessly across the back and backside with his leather belt. 

Unable to escape, and in too much pain to endure much more abuse, Severus did the same thing he had done on the many other occasions his father had punished him this way. He cried.

* * *

Severus managed to replace the painful memory with one of him brewing a drawing salve, but not before Voldemort had seen a significant portion of it. Whenever Voldemort had managed to break into Severus's mind, he invariably was treated to endless memories of brewing potions or pages and pages of potion texts. 

This was different. Voldemort would be sure to use this against Severus. 

"You still insisssst that you have no knowledge of a son?" Voldemort hissed when he finally ended the legilimens spell. 

"Yes, Master. To my knowledge, I have fathered no children." Severus replied, blinking away the tears which had intruded. 

"How can you not know something as important as that?" Voldemort pressed. "Sssurely you would have remembered the name of the woman you conceived the bastard with?" 

Severus forced a blank look. 

Voldemort took a few steps toward the bowing Severus. "The woman'ssss name, Ssssnape!" 

"I don't know." 

"HOW CAN YOU NOT KNOW THE NAME OF A WOMAN YOU'VE ENGAGED IN SEXUAL INTERCOURSE WITH?!" 

"Because there have been many women!" Severus declared as convincingly as he could. "During your first reign, there were many female Death Eaters, and you've also granted us many trophy women following the raids. Perhaps one of the women I engaged in coitus with, was in the ovulatory stage of her menstrual cycle..." 

"I don't ssseem to recall your partaking of any of the trophy women, ever. Or having a relationship with one of the other Death Eaters." 

"I was a young, virile man then," Severus attempted to steer Voldemort as far off course as possible. "It is possible for us to complete the act of coitus in a matter or minutes." 

"Of courssse, Darkling. "Voldemort said, the tone of skepticism heavy in his voice. "Following which raidsss then, did you claim thessse trophiesss?" 

"I do not remember, Master." Severus stated. 

Even though the woman's name may not be easily recalled, surely Severus would at least recall the general location of the women he had potentially fathered the bastard with. "How isss it that you can remember the ingredientsss required for the brewing of ssssome of the most complex potionsss, but you cannot even remember the locationsss you had sssex in?!" 

"Well, the act of coitus can inhibit one's abilities to..." 

"ENOUGH!" Voldemort was exasperated that Severus could not, or more than likely would not tell him anything. "Crabbe!" 

"Yes Master." The large man bowed. 

Severus gaped at Voldemort's next command. 

"Give me your belt." Voldemort smiled evilly at Severus. If nothing could break him before, surely a beating like the ones Snape Sr gave him would. "Lay Sssnape over the desk." 

As soon as Crabbe and Goyle held Severus down against the table, Voldemort brought the belt hard against his back. Although Severus willed himself to be silent, by the ninth lash he was sobbing uncontrollably, and by the twelfth lash, he was crying out in pain. Although Severus tried to push back memories of similar punishments at his father's firm hands, his body remembered all too well and reacted accordingly. "Perhaps this will help your memory!" Wormtail teased. 

Lucien, who had been watching invisibly all along, went ashen. Seeing Severus tormented in this manner was unbearable to watch. With each lash, Lucien was reminded of how he had failed his son. And now The Dark Lord was using that traumatic memory against Severus in the worst possible way. 

When Severus's frock coat and shirt began to fray from the lash, Voldemort simply drew his wand and cut them away. He struck Severus once more using the buckle of Crabbe's belt, causing a welt to rip open and bleed. 

"Did thisss improve your memory at all?" Voldemort asked, walking around the table, grabbing Severus's hair and jerking his head up. "Where did you take your pleasure with these women?" 

Severus steeled his features, but the tears on his face betrayed him. "I told you, Master. I know nothing about the son I supposedly have, nor do I remember the trophy woman I could have conceived him with." 

Furious, Voldemort brought the belt down repeatedly on Severus's back with such force, that it quickly reduced his pale flesh to a striped, bleeding mess. Voldemort quickly grew exhausted and handed the belt to Wormtail who set about the task pure delight, even going so far as to smack Severus across the face and abdominal regions and relishing each time a cry escaped his former rival. 

But Severus still would tell Voldemort nothing, wearing the cloak of ignorance like a stubborn, unwavering badge of survival. Voldermort instructed Wormtail to intensify the beatings on Severus. 

"Master," Severus said when Wormtail finally had to rest his arm. "What one does not know, one does not know." 

"Are you quessstioning my actionssss?!" 

"No, of course not..." 

"Continue!" Voldemort hissed to Wormtail, who resumed his position eagerly and kicked Severus firmly in the groin before employing the belt. 

Now, whenever Severus opened his mouth, he only groaned or screamed in pain. 

Lucien could neither listen to, nor watch the flagellation of his son any longer. When Severus hid his face against the hard table, no doubt to hide tears, Lucien decided that he had to help Severus by any means possible. But how? He would have to accomplish this without incurring any more of Voldemort's wrath toward Severus. Any more wrath could mean a sure death. 

Lucien decided that diversionary tactics would be safest. Still aloft high in the room, Lucien kicked the cadelabras floating near him. He then transformed his invisible self into a mass of phosphorescent, visible light, and began flying around the room. He started shrieking and wailing in a way that would have rivalled a banshee's. Not even Severus would recognize his own father's voice in this way. 

Wormtail dropped the belt in fright. Although Crabbe and Goyle stared dully at the entity flying around the room. Even Voldemort seemed alarmed. 

Lucien knocked items off shelves and even dropped a heavy statue on Crabbe's head. 

"POLTERGEIST!!" screamed Bacterian running toward the nearest exit. 

"Demon!" Bivens caterwauled, running out the door after Bacterian. 

"I have not yet excussssed any of you!" The Dark Lord hollered over Lucien's ghostly wailing. He picked up the bloodied belt and raised it over Severus's back once more. 

Lucien swooped down on Voldemort, pulled the belt out of his hands and threw it toward one of the fires still burning under one of the cauldrons. Lucien's aim was off due to his trying to throw without a proper elbow...even a ghostly elbow. Instead of the belt landing directly in the flames, it hit the side of the cauldron with such force that it was upended. The oily potion simmering within, spilled all over the floor and into the flames under other cauldrons. 

"Blimey!!" shouted one of the robed figured whose voice Severus could not identify. 

But it was too late. What looked more like the blast from a fairly large incendiary bomb filled the room. It was all Lucien could do to shove Severus out of the way before he too was caught in the blast. Unfortunately, the shockwave still knocked the dour potions master unconscious. 

The robed figures who had been standing in the range of the blast were either killed instantaneously, or else they caught on fire and ran screaming around the room. 

The flames quickly spread to the potion racks, and to the oil paintings on the wall where it quickly spread down the halls. 

"Dissmisssed!" Voldemort shouted to all the Death Eaters in Montcastle Mansion after magically amplifying his voice with the sonorous spell. 

Refraining from chasing after Voldemort and Wormtail for the purpose of kicking them both in their backsides or worse, Lucien gathered his mask and outer robes from the where they had been hung near one of the exits, wrapped Severus in them, and shakily lifted his son into his arms and fled the quickly spreading fires of Montcastle Mansion. Severus was still mortal after all and could not withstand fire like Lucien could. 

Not trusting the integrity of his elbowless arm, Lucien tore the Death Eater robes he had loaned to Severus and used them to secure Severus to his semisolid torso. Unable to walk in the ghostly way that Lucien was preferred, he turned himself invisible once more and floated as quickly as he could through dark open fields and unlit alleys back towards Hammersmith and Snape Manor. 

Severus did not regain consciousness until they were safely back on the grounds of Snape Manor. It was still dark, although Severus was too disoriented to care. The blast had been too strong. Severus tried to focus his dark eyes on the person carrying him. He could not see the person's face clearly, but he knew this person well. Yes he did. This was the imaginary, kind, father he used to have dreams of in his youth. Severus remembered many sweet, vivid dreams of a man who looked very much like Lucien Snape, the same father who beat him, but the man he dreamed about was kind, caring, and allowed Severus into his potion's lab, even though Severus would sometimes spill potions or make them explode. 

"We're home, Sevvie." Lucien whispered into his son's blood soaked hair as they ascended the steps to Snape Manor One. 

Severus felt very weary and could hardly keep his eyes open. He did not dare close them though, because if he did, the good, though imaginary father would disappear and he would wake up to see his cruel father again. 

"Don't leave me, father!" Severus whispered, his voice distinctly childlike. Severus hurt everywhere and guessed that his bad father must have beaten him. He knew his good father would make him feel better again. 

"I won't, Sevvie. I'll never leave again." Lucien said, wondering just how hard the blast had impacted Severus's head to force him to regress to such an early time. 

He stopped just before opening the door. The wards were still in place around the manor. How would Lucien pass through the wards? If he did, could he do so safely? Might he be destroyed altogether and not exist at all? 

He looked down at himself, and saw that not only part of his elbow was gone now, but so was part of his upper and lower arm. A greater portion of hips had faded as well. 

"Oh Sevvie...must I break yet another promise I've made to you?" 

End Part Thirty-Seven 


	38. The Muggle Baiter

**Remembrance and Renewal** by ** Nigel Tatsuya** and **Avatar Arkmage**  
Chapter Thirty-Eight: ** Muggle Baiter**

Although Hermione had studied until nearly four o'clock that morning, she found that she was still not sufficiently tired enough to sleep. She was too fatigued to go on with her studies though, so she went downstairs and helped herself to a tub of sugar free tin roof sundae ice cream.

"There's probably nothing worth watching at this hour." Hermione huffed to herself, but turned on the telly notwithstanding. She rolled her eyes when a reggae beat blared from the speakers and police cars flashing their lights appeared. "Oh no, not another one of those American inspired programmes!"

The word 'Bobbies' flashed across the image of police cars chasing a criminal somewhere out of the camera's view. And although the beat was reggae, the lyrics were done by British vocalists.

_Bad fellas bad fellas  
Wotcha gonna do, right, wotcha gonna do wen they come for yer  
Bad fellas, bad fellas  
Wotcha gonna do, right, wotcha gonna do wen they come for yer_

"Well that's an easy enough question." Hermione replied to the telly, putting another spoonful of ice cream into her mouth. "Run away."

_Wen yer were eight and yer 'ad bad traits  
Yer go ter school and yer learn the bloomin' golden rule  
So why are yer actin' like a bloody fool  
If yer cop hot yer must cop cool _

_Bad fellas, right, bad fellas. Wotcha gonna do? Wotcha gonna do wen they come for yer? _

_Bad fellas, bad fellas. Wotcha gonna do? Wotcha gonna do wen they come for yer? _

_Yer chuck it on this one. Yer chuck it on this one.  
Yer chuck it on muvver and yer chuck it on yer favver. _

By now, Hermione was interested in the programme. In true Hermione fashion, she decided to take notes for a possible essay in the future. She would compare and contrast the methods employed by Muggle Police and the Aurors.

_No bloke nor give yer no break  
Bobbies nor give yer no break  
Soldier nor give yer no break  
Not even yer children nor give yer no break _

The announcer started speaking even before the song ended. "Bobbies is filmed on location with the men and women of law enforcement. All suspects are considered innocent until proven guilty in a court of law."

Hermione quickly scrawled down everything the bobbies did when arresting an abusive spouse. She gaped in horror when the bobbies raided an illegal drug lab, and she immediately scribbled notes about the lab as well, thinking she would write an essay for Professor Snape in Advanced Potions class about muggle drug labs. She almost spat a mouthful of ice cream on the telly when the bobbies went after their next criminal. "That's the boy I saw outside the hospital..."

"We've been pursuing the blighter from Central London." The police officer said whilst in pursuit of a speeding, though shimmying vehicle. "He's hasn't slowed at all, and threw an innocent man out of the car he stole."

When the mysterious boy, who reminded Hermione of Draco Malfoy, seemingly vanished into an open field once the bobbies had managed to force him to pull over, Hermione began scribbling. She was not scribbling notes for a possible essay in class, but a letter to the Ministry of Magic.

_Bad fellas bad fellas  
Wotcha gonna do, right, wotcha gonna do wen they come for yer…_

* * *

"Master Lucien! OH MASTER LUCIEN, you has brought back Master Se..." Rastus's amber gaze fell upon his beloved master's damaged form, and then upon Lucien's elbow and right leg, or rather the absence of them. "...OH! What has happened to Master Severus? And Master Lucien, what has happened to you?" 

"Come along, Rastus. I require your assistance." Lucien hoisted his son more securely in his arms and glided in the direction of Snape Manor Two. Before Rastus could fully open his mouth to question this, Lucien replied: "I must render aid to Sevvie here, but I dare not attempt to pass through the wards of Snape Manor One again." Lucien looked to his missing elbow, and noted sadly that a few centimetres more of his arm had faded.

Lucien floated up the stone steps to the Manor constructed by his son. He was about to try the maple doors, when the tawny haired elf reappeared suddenly in front of him. "Allow Rastus to give assistance?" Without waiting for a reply, Rastus flailed his arms and spelled both doors wide open; allowing the pale ghost ample room to pass through without having to readjust Severus's position in his arms.

"Draw him a tepid bath." Lucien instructed. He carefully unfastened the shredded robes binding Severus's wounded form to his semi-solid torso, and lay him on the pelt on the tiled floor next to the tub.

"Ungh...! No more! Please..." Severus groaned when his flayed back came in contact with the slightly coarse fur.

"Do not be afraid, my son." Lucien spoke in a tone he had longed to use with Severus whilst he had lived. "You're safe now. Father will care for you."

Severus gave an expression which could be interpreted as relief, then closed his dark eyes once more.

Lucien wrapped Severus in the pelt to keep him warm while he rummaged through the cupboards seeking healing salves and potions. He found a few rolls of parchment and a pen before he could find any concentrated potions he could pour into the bath. He began scribbling crude pictures on the parchment, for house elves were not typically taught to read. "Rastus, I need you to return to Snape Manor One and gather these supplies."

"Yes, Master Lucien." The elf nodded.

"Very good, Ras..." Lucien paused when he noticed the elf had already vanished.

* * *

Little Albus Dumbledore eagerly looked up from colouring on parchments at the sound of the Gargoyle statue, which guarded the stairs leading to his office, moving aside. It was 5:20 in the morning, and Albus surmised that Severus Snape must have returned from the Death Eater meeting to report on Voldemort's latest movements. 

Professor Snape had not informed Professor Dumbledore of his summoning last night. He had neither had enough time, nor would it have been safe to attempt to send word via Owl Post.

But Dumbledore knew the exact moment Severus was summoned anyway. He always did. Into his small hands, little Albus summoned a golden model of a serpent curled around an antiquated sextant upon his desk. His de-aged mind travelled back to a night many years in the past when Severus, then the young potions master of Hogwarts, had returned from a Death Eater meeting. He reported to Dumbledore's office straightaway, gave his account on the meeting as always, and left immediately thereafter.

* * *

Young Severus's abnormally calm affect put Albus Dumbledore ill at ease that night. In the early morning, when Dumbledore's sense of foreboding still would not subside, he stole into the dungeons to check on his potions master. As he feared, Severus was laying motionless on the stone floor next to his bed...with deep incisions through his wrists. 

One of the deepest cuts traversed the Dark Mark.

Horrified, Albus Dumbledore had dragged Severus Snape to Madam Pomfrey, despite the young man's protests. Severus's blood stained Albus's bright fuchsia sleeves profusely, but Albus took little notice as he lovingly admonished Severus all the way to the hospital wing. When the nurse halted the bleeding, and had bandaged Severus's wounds, the young potion master admitted to attempting suicide.

When Severus would not elaborate on exactly why he had attempted to take his own life, Albus initiated a legillimency session on the younger man without warning. Even so, Severus forced Albus from his mind. He could not disclose the reason, not even to Albus Dumbledore, his mentor and father in all but blood. Albus reluctantly respected Severus's wishes for privacy on that matter, and from that day onward, Severus was one of the most, if not the most, skilled practitioners of Occlumency in all of Britain.

Unbeknownst to Severus however, Headmaster Albus Dumbledore did not immediately hand his blood soaked fuchsia robes to the Hogwarts house elves to launder. Instead, he tore off the sleeve which had soaked a considerable measure of blood from Severus's Dark Mark. He noted how the blood remained bright red even though most of it had dried. Albus charmed the blood back into its liquid form, and wrung it into the mouth of the golden serpent and sextant statuette on his desk. He uttered a few incantations, thereby sealing the blood within the golden serpent's belly. Now the ornament bore minute quantities of the same matter contained in Severus's Dark Mark, and would react similarly to any summoning from the Dark Lord. Thereafter, whenever the Dark Mark burned on Severus's arm, the charmed and preserved blood encased in the ornament would produce heat and luminesce slightly as well. To better allow any changes in the preserved blood to be seen, Albus later transfigured the gold forming the serpent's underside into transparent crystal.

* * *

The ornament had started glowing once again at some time during the night. Because Albus Dumbledore was a child once more, Deputy Headmistress Mcgonagall had sent him to bed early. Hence, he did not know the exact moment when the ornament had started to glow. Only when he awakened to use the toilet at roughly 3 o'clock did he notice the change. Although the ornament was no longer glowing brightly, the fact that it was still slightly warm to the touch, and glowing at all indicated that Severus had been called to Voldemort at some time that night. 

Worried both about Severus Snape, and his young son Harry Potter, Albus had not returned to bed. He paced about his office, thinking on what he should do. Harry was all alone at Snape Manor.

Albus Dumbledore could neither apparate, nor find transportation to Snape Manor at that time of the night. The Knight Bus was not an option, for an untrustworthy individual might be aboard and could recognize him, even in his de-aged form. He entertained the thought of utilizing the floo network, but the network was too closely monitored, and the fireplaces in Snape Manor were not connected to the floo network besides.

In desperation, Albus had run all the way to YiChung Chang's room at The Ol' Barmy's Inn in Hogsmeade, in the hopes that his long time friend would take him to Snape Manor in his Draconian form. Although YiChung was also a youth at the moment, he could still assume his animagus form and fly great distances, albeit slower than when he was an adult. It would be better than nothing.

Sadly, YiChung was not at the inn, and Albus concluded that he must have been spending the night with his son's family in Whitby. YiChung adored his granddaughter Cho, after all, and was seldom seen away from her whenever he visited the U.K. during the summers. The only reason YiChung Chang stayed at the inn at all was because he was allergic to some of the herbs his son grew in the garden, and was a considered a walking fire hazard when he sneezed. Once while his son was crushing herbs for tea, YiChung sneezed right into Cho's hair and set it on fire.

With a sigh, Albus Dumbledore returned to his office at Hogwarts, berating himself for not thinking of sending either Remus Lupin or Minerva McGonagall to Snape Manor to fetch Harry instead. As he did when he was an elderly man, the child Albus Dumbledore sat at his desk, looking toward the Forbidden Forest for any sign of his potion master's return.

"Albus! What are you doing out of bed?" Minerva McGonagall yelled as she entered the office. It was she who had caused the gargoyles to move aside. Her usually neat bun was tousled within her hairnet, and she was clad in nothing more than a tartan dressing gown thrown sloppily over her night dress.

Albus was hard-pressed to hide his disappointment. Severus was not behind her. He was nowhere in the vicinity of Hogwarts. "The dear boy has been summoned this night."

"Ohhhh..." Minerva shuddered visibly. "What about Harry?"

"Severus would have had to leave Harry in his house elf's care." The de-aged Headmaster clambered out of his chair and ambled to the window. Once there, he kicked the pane. "Severus assured me that he and Harry would have only stayed at Snape Manor for a few days. Just until they settled a few affairs. They were to be back at Hogwarts well before the Interventio Interferous potion wore off."

Minerva did some quick calculations in her mind. "The potion would have lost its potency some time yesterday! You-Know-Who must have known."

Albus gripped the side panels of the window and spoke in a soft voice, as though he were not addressing anyone in particular: "Severus has endangered Harry. The very future of the wizarding world rests with that boy."

Minerva McGonagall's face, already pallid from her lack of time outdoors in the daylight hours, went marginally paler. "If He-Who-Must-Not-Be-named finds out that Severus Snape has a son..."

"...and that the aforementioned son is Harry Potter." Albus continued for her.

"He'll surely be killed." McGonagall withdrew her handkerchief and dabbed at her eyes. "And Harry will surely seek revenge."

"Harry is not ready to confront Voldemort yet." Albus stated. "We must go to Snape Manor and bring Harry back to Hogwarts immediately. It is not safe for him to stay there any longer. Minerva, you must accompany me..."

"Albus, look!" Minerva forestalled him and motioned out the window. "That must be Professor Snape!" At the farthest edge of Hogwart's grounds, Albus and Minerva saw the behemoth silhouette of Hagrid emerging from the Forbidden Forest. In his arms, he bore what appeared to be the form of a man. The man was bloodied, nude, and unconscious. Perhaps the poor creature was dead.

Albus jumped onto Minerva's back. "We must awaken Poppy. To the medical wing, now."

"Walk on your own feet!" Professor McGonagall said irately, setting the de-aged Headmaster on the floor.

* * *

Harry awakened just as the dawn's twilight faintly illuminated the spacious bed chambers. He rolled languidly onto his back. As he often did of late, Harry gingerly let his arm fall across the bed, hoping to 'accidentally' make contact with his father's sleeping form. Harry was very careful to make the contact seem inadvertent, for Severus still disliked being touched, and would surely be infuriated if he thought the boy had touched him on purpose. One morning, Severus had irately tossed Harry's hand back onto his own side of the bed, and on another, when Harry kept wrapping his tiny arms around him, Severus rolled the youth tightly in his blankets, immobilising him. 

Keeping his eyes closed, Harry continued to pat the bed, wondering where his quarry was. But there was not even warmth to indicate some one had been sleeping on that side of the bed recently. Just a few months ago, Harry did not know the warmth and reassurance of sleeping beside another person. Waking alone now, with neither Severus nor Rastus, was unsettling. "Father?"

Reality meandered in, in tandem with full consciousness. Severus had not retired with Harry the night before. For that matter, Harry did not remember retiring at all. Only grieving after Severus had been summoned. Father had not been home for the greater part of the night. No, he had not been home the entire night. "Father?"

Harry sprang from the bed and ran from one room to the other. "Father? Grandfather? Rastus?" Within a few minutes, Harry had explored the entire Manor twice, but found no one.

Snape Manor One was all but deserted.

Returning to sit on the bed, Harry selected a fluffy down pillow and hugged it tightly to himself . Father must not yet have returned from the Death Eater meeting. "Damn you, Voldemort!" Harry shouted, constricting the pillow, and secretly hoping it would turn into Voldemort's neck. Didn't Death Eater raids occur mainly at night? If so, why wasn't father home yet? Did one of their raids run late? Did Severus go back to Hogwarts to report the proceedings of the meeting to Albus Dumbledore personally? Or did Voldemort demand an exorbitant quantity of potions, and was working Severus to the point of exhaustion even now?

Memories of what little Harry had witnessed the night before came back with the intensity of a storm surge. Voldemort had been very angry at Severus and subjected him to horrible forms of Cruciatus torture and humiliation before the other Death Eaters. Harry had only witnessed the first few minutes of the meeting's "festivities." What must Voldemort have done to father during the subsequent hours? Harry shuddered, remembering how his father had had to remain in the infirmary for days after he attended the last Death Eater meeting. On the very night Severus had rescued Harry from the Dursleys...

Harry clutched the pillow tighter, noting absently that its coverlet had likely been knitted by his own grandmother. Mervidith Snape, yet another victim of Voldemort's cruelty. Once again, Harry's mind wandered through dark thoughts of revenge. For the tortures of his father and grandmother, Harry would subject The Dark Lord to similar tortures...but would Harry have enough hatred within him to cast the Cruciatus effectively? And for the deaths of James Potter, Lily Potter, Cedric Diggory, Sirius Black and Lucien Snape, Harry would kill Voldemort, resurrect him, and kill him again! Five times over. No, that would be too humane. What of all the others who suffered and/or died at the hands of The Dark Lord?

Better yet, what would a victim of both torture and murder at the hands of Voldemort, such as Lucien Snape, do? "Grandfather?"

No answer.

"Grandfather!" Where was Lucien Snape? Grandfather would not leave Snape Manor, would he? He could not. After all, wasn't he trapped here within its wards? Trapped for nearly seventeen years? If he wasn't here, then where...? Harry's heart sank. Might Grandfather have gone to wherever people go when they die?

"Rastus?" Harry called in desperation. "RASTUS?!"

The light brown haired house octarelf popped into the room. "Yes, Young Snape sir?"

"Rastus!" Harry was so relieved that he nearly asphyxiated the poor octarelf whilst hugging him. "I'm so glad to see you."

"Rastus is happy to see Young Snape too! Is Young Snape hungry? Is there anything you be wanting Rastus to prepare for breakfast?"

"No. Thank you, though." Harry said, still holding the elf like a life-sized doll. "I really want to know where Grandfather and Father are, though."

"Oh! Master Severus and Master Lucien is in Snape Manor Two." Rastus replied. "But you is not to go... " Harry had already sprinted out the door.

"Young Snape!" shouted Rastus as he gathered bottles of potions and jars of salves from the massive stores Lucien had prepared over the years. "Young Snape, you is not to go there."

Harry ignored the octarelf and charged across the grounds and into Snape Manor Two. "Father! FATHER!"

"Harry, NO! Do not come in here." Lucien quickly attempted to wrap Severus in a towel, causing the half-conscious man to groan as the material abraded his broken flesh. "You must not see this!"

"It's nothing I haven't seen before," Harry said defiantly. "This is hardly the first time I've seen father after a Death Eater meeting."

It was the second.

* * *

Albus Dumbledore and Minerva McGonagall charged into the nurse's quarters, and shook Poppy Pomfrey so hard in their effort to wake her, that the act sent waves of pain through her head. 

"Wha-what?" The school nurse puffed.

"Professor Snape has returned," Minerva dabbed at her eyes, "from a summoning."

Madam Pomfrey jumped from the bed as though some one had installed box springs that really did what their name promised. She quickly threw on her robes, and the trio dashed into the infirmary just as Hagrid entered with the bloodied man.

"Fang found 'im lyin' unconscious in a patch of apogeeraniums." Hagrid explained, placing the man onto a triage bed.

"Severus...are you..?" Poppy began, before stopping abruptly. "This is not Severus!"

"Aye, is Prof'ssor Lupin 'e is." Hagrid said, "ain't seen 'im this bad b'fore."

"Remus?" Minerva Mcgonagall brushed some greying locks off of the man's badly scratched forehead.

"Remus?"

Little Professor Dumbledore sat heavily on a nearby chair. "The moon must have been full last night..."

"Musta not 'ad 'is potion." Hagrid helped straighten out Remus Lupin's body on the clean linens. "Didn' Prof'sor Snape come back to 'ogwarts to mek Woofsbane for 'im?"

"No, he has not." little Albus said, tears filling his blue eyes as he traced a mighty gash along Remus Lupin's arm. "Remus had to bear his transformation unaided."

The Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher screamed when Madam Pomfrey realigned his clavicle before healing it. "All right! Leave! All of you, and let me work!!"

In the hall, Minerva's face darkened. "Severus has been away from Hogwarts for too long! He's endangering Harry Potter, and he didn't even brew Remus's wolfsbane for this month! He knows very well with all the unrest of late that Lupin would not have been able to acquire wolfsbane from another source!"

"Time ta bring 'em back to 'ogwarts, I say." Rebeus Hagrid muttered.

Little Albus regarded his groundskeeper and his deputy headmistress with eyes devoid of their usual twinkle. "As soon as we see to Professor Lupin's well being, we will go to Snape Manor.

* * *

Ordering Harry not to do something, was a fail-safe method of assuring that he would quadruple his efforts to do just that. Harry charged into the spacious bathroom and shrieked. "Oh father! FATHER! What's happened to him?" 

"He'll be just fine," Harry could tell that Lucien was in no way sure of his answer, "his wounds need to be tended, that is all."

Harry kneeled beside the pelt his father lay upon. Severus's feet were horribly swollen and his legs were covered in bruises. When Lucien finally sighed and removed Severus from the towel so he could continue applying a salve, Harry saw that his father's entire torso was covered in bleeding lacerations, bruises and angry red welts.

"BLOODY HELL!" Harry cried, then covered his mouth immediately afterwards, shocked at his own usage of profanity. "Oh father! What did Voldemort do to you?!"

Severus made no response, even though he opened his eyes briefly and looked directly at Harry. Over the next few minutes, he slipped in and out of consciousness, and did not appear to be fully aware of his surroundings.

When Rastus arrived bearing the caches of potions and salves, Harry chose a jar that contained a substance resembling the one his grandfather was applying to Severus's wounds. "Is this the same as the one you're putting on him?"

"Yes, Harry," Lucien released his hold on Severus somewhat to allow Harry access to some of his father's wounds. "This is a tissue regenerating salve."

Harry looked from his father to the filling bath which Rastus was attending. "But won't this wash off?"

"It has an oily base." Lucien replied, cringing when Severus vociferated once more. "It will wash off eventually with the heat of the bath, but it should remain on his wounds long enough to close them adequately."

Lucien clutched the jar he was holding tightly, "your father created this concoction when he was only a few years older than you are now."

"Wow!" was all Harry could say, noticing how the substance halted any bleeding seconds after coming in contact with the wound.

"One night when I returned from a Death Eater meeting..." Lucien paused, as though the memory itself was painful, "I was so downtrodden that I passed out on the floor in this very bath...no, not this bath, but in its brother in Snape Manor One. I meant to pour healing potions into the tub and soak in them until they did their work, but I had no strength to accomplish the task on my own. When I regained consciousness, I felt Sevvie applying the unfamiliar salve to my wounds. The pain dulled or disappeared completely wherever the balm was applied. It regenerated tissues faster than anything I could brew, and was comparable to the best regeneratives available at most apothecaries at the time. Perhaps even better..."

"You must have been proud of him." Harry ventured, watching the skin close on a deep cut.

"I was very proud, and amazed. Not many potions masters were capable of what your father was at age nine." Lucien replied, his face twisted in shame. "But I couldn't encourage your father to follow in my path as a potion master. It was, and is, too dangerous. The Dark Lord, and other opportunists would surely exploit his gifts... so I..."

"...You hurt him?" Harry asked.

"Yes..." Lucien exhaled heavily. "I could not bear the thought of Severus living as I did. I did not want The Dark Lord, or some greedy apothecary owner in Knockturn Alley enslaving him or otherwise exploiting him. To be sure, I was paid well for my services to the apothecaries, and service to The Dark Lord was not without considerable recompense, but it is only to be alive and not living. Never free. At some one's service at all times as well as their mercy like a common house elf." Lucien turned his head away in shame. "If I made a small miscalculation in one of my brews, The Dark Lord punished me. If the apothecaries were displeased with any of my potions, brigands would visit my laboratories at the University and..." Lucien swallowed hard. "Anyway, when I regained enough of my wits to speak coherently that night, I admonished Severus for brewing potions, despite my forbidding him to do so. I ordered him to his room to await his punishment while I finished my bath.

But even though I resorted to throwing bars of soap at him and kicking him stoutly, he would not leave me until he had treated all my wounds and had helped me safely into the tub. Only then did he walk out of the room with his head lowered."

Harry started sobbing. His poor father. His poor grandfather.

"Sevvie...your father returned shortly thereafter bearing bottles from my hidden stash of concentrated healing potions. I had brewed those special potions for those times after The Dark Lord had been particularly displeased with me. Somehow, Severus knew to pour them into the bath. Exactly how Sevvie knew about their existence, as well as how, and in what combinations, to employ those special potions is a mystery to me. I do not even know why he was awake at that late hour."

"He stayed awake waiting for you. Father loved you so much that he probably watched many of the things you did." Harry sniffled, wondering how many times Lucien, and later Severus, had returned from Death Eater meetings in this condition or worse. "He was worried about you, and probably couldn't sleep until he knew you were safely at home. He loved you that much. Just like I love him." Harry wiped his nose. "Did you still punish him for brewing potions? Even though he helped you then.. did you still beat him?"

"I could not bring myself to." Lucien whispered, tears glistening in his icy blue eyes. "When I entered Sevvie's room after my bath, I found him cowering in a dark corner. He had removed his nightshirt, and was leaned over, as much as to say 'get it over with quickly.' I threw him onto his bed and told him that I was too tired to beat him, and that the beating he had received earlier would have to suffice."

For the next few moments, Lucien said nothing more. Harry was sure it was because he was temporarily incapable of doing so, being so moved by how Severus could still love him, even after how cruel he was.

Once all of Severus's external injuries were coated by the healing salve, the pale ghost silently carried his son to the tub. Before immersing him, Lucien poured the concentrated potions into the bath, turning the water to a pale silvery-green liquid.

"Aghh!!" cried Severus.

"Just relax, Sevvie." Lucien helped his son recline so that the level of the water came just below his chin.

"Your body will grow accustomed to the potions shortly."

"Is it hurting him?" Harry asked

"It's only a little uncomfortable at first. You see, Harry, in order for the properties of the healing potions to be most effective, the water they are diluted in must be no warmer than the ambient temperature of the room. The interactions between the potions will produce heat as they work, you see, but they are dilute enough not to make the bath water too hot."

"But hot enough to eventually melt off the oily salve we put on?"

"Yes."

Harry put a hand in the water, and found it to be pleasantly cool. He wondered if it stung Severus's wounds. It was then that Harry noticed Lucien's right arm, or rather what was missing from it. In the last hour or so, even more of Lucien's upper arm and forearm had faded away. "Grandfather! Your arm! Part of it is...IS GONE! What happened?!"

"Nothing really," Lucien fabricated, moving behind the opposite side of the tub so Harry would not be able to see his missing leg and part of his torso. "I'm a ghost after all, I'm already dead, so what can happen to me eh?"

"You're not fading away are you?" Harry asked, splashing some of the potion-laden bath water onto Severus's flushed face.

"Why ever would you think that?" Lucien asked, knowing that fading out of existence was a very real probability. "Uh...I got tired of the style of sleeves I had. Yes, I have dreadful sleeves. After all, you'd not want to wear the same garment for years would you now? Granted Sevvie was wise in choosing to bury me in this outfit, but uh... wearing the same clothes can get rather tiresome after seventeen years."

Harry concluded that it was a good thing his grandfather had chosen to be a potion master, and not a member of parliament, for he could not lie brilliantly enough to convince even a dustbin to vote for him.

The attention called to Lucien's arm only made Harry stare harder at him, so Lucien reached into one of the cases and handed Harry a bottle of a thick potion. "Here, pour this into your father's hair, and take care to saturate it well, he has a cuts on his head."

Harry did as he was told, finding the task somewhat difficult, as chunks of Severus's hair were matted together with dried blood.

Without warning, violent spasms tore through Severus's body. Harry jumped back, both in surprise at the suddenness, and in revulsion at the knowledge that these were the aftereffects of the Cruciatus curse. Lucien levitated the potion bottles and bars of soap out of the way, to prevent Severus from injuring himself upon them, and quickly transfigured the metal faucets into pliable rubber taps hundreths of seconds before Severus slammed against them.

"Oh!" Lucien gasped as Severus's head slipped beneath the water when his convulsions subsided. Lucien helped him surface straightaway. To prevent such a recurrence, he propped his son against the sides of the tub with a series of rolled towels. Harry further helped to achieve that end by moving directly behind Severus and wrapping both arms around him.

Lucien lathered a soft cloth with a bar of mild soap, and began to gently cleanse his battered son's body. He had done this many times when Severus was a young child, and Lucien went through all the motions with the same level of proficiency he had had in life. To his dismay, Lucien could feel the residual trembling from the Cruciatus curse still coursing deep in Severus's muscle tissues, poised to erupt into full blown convulsions at the slightest provocation. As Lucien carefully leaned Severus forward; supporting the younger man with his remaining forearm as he gingerly cleansed the dried blood away from his flagellation injuries, Lucien noted the slight imperfections in Severus's spine.

"Grandfather?" asked Harry, noticing that Lucien was trembling. "What's wrong? His back isn't broken is it?"

"No..." Lucien clenched his teeth as he felt along Severus's spine. "But several of his vertebrae have been cracked at some time in the past. They're healed now, but...without being properly set. This one...appears to have collapsed altogether. Oh Sevvie...how much pain you must be in..."

"I thought you're supposed to have a doctor or a healer sort out broken bones or they won't heal right?"

"In most cases, one should seek a healers help." Lucien shuddered, for he did not truly know whether Severus's injuries had occurred as a result of Voldemort's ire...or his own. Lucien vaguely recalled one day when he had literally thrown a very young Severus out of his labs. The force of the throw sent Severus crashing against a shelf in the hall. He lay on the floor crying for a long time afterward. At the time, Lucien's muddled brain concluded that Severus was overacting as usual. When little Severus did not stop wailing after a few minutes, Lucien threw a heavy tome into Severus's side to silence him. He recalled little Severus stifling his own sobs by cupping a hand over his mouth. Now, with a heavy heart, Lucien wondered if it was he or Voldemort who had once cracked Severus's vertebrae.

Once again, violent, seizure-like twitching wracked Severus's body. This time, Lucien could do little more than pray that the intensity of the spasms itself didn't snap Severus's neck or otherwise cause him mortal damage.

When the trembling resolved once more, Lucien hugged Severus to him. He hid his face against Severus's blood soaked hair and began sobbing.

"Grandfather?"

Lucien raised his head. "I've tried so hard to keep Severus from following in my path! To save him from enduring the existence I had in place of my life!" Lucien broke down completely, cradling Severus in his arms as though he were an infant. "And yet...and yet..." more sobs. "He is now very much as I used to be! The tortures! The drudgery of bone cracking potions duties! Vacillating between consciousness and insanity!" Severus's hand began shaking, and Lucien steadied it with his own, which functioned normally even though it appeared to be virtually detached from the rest of the ghostly arm. " Harry...these spasms...the aftershocks from the Cruciatus Curse...are just like mine used to be only months before I died! I returned from meetings beaten, just as badly as Severus is now...many times...The Dark Lord had never missed a chance to punish me for doing something that displeased him... and now he is doing that to Severus...I couldn't save him. I couldn't keep my own son from harm! "

"Grandfather...it isn't your fault. Not entirely. If father is anything like me, and I think he is, he's very stubborn. If you tell him not to do something, he'll want to do it even more just because you've told him not to. Besides, how can he not be a great potions master like you? He's your son, after all." Harry wrapped his arms around Lucien and noticed that his entire body was quivering with sobs. Evidently, though Lucien was a ghost, he cried very much like a living person.

"All that separates us is our blood, and yet he is so much like me." Lucien whimpered, raising Severus's still quivering hand out of the water and noting that even the length and shape of his fingers were nearly identical to his own. Although Lucien was taller and more broad than his son, they bore a similar proportion of muscle and fat on their frames.

Harry knelt beside the tub and leaned his head against Severus's, his tears falling on his father's cheek. "And you and Sevvie," Lucien went on, seeing on Harry's face, the same look of concern he had so often seen on his son's, " separated by time and distance, and yet you're so much like him. Your mannerisms, your temperament, your intelligence. Your appearance..."

"I guess there's more to being a father and son than blood, or who raised you." Harry concluded. "It must a spiritual bond. I've felt it with father, even before I knew who he truly was. He knew when I needed help, even before I knew I needed it myself. And I knew when he was feeling sad, even though he never told me." Harry gazed into his grandsire's eyes. "You and father have a spiritual bond as well. A very strong one. Father's spirit reached out to you, even before he was born. He called you father then. And when I saw you brew the Amorvi...amorvir-"

"Amorvirtutisumbra Vivosvoco." Severus whispered, still looking quite dazed and only semi-conscious.

"Yes, when I saw you brewing that potion..." Harry began, smiling at the fact that Severus could still help him pronounce the difficult name of a potion even whilst not in full control of his senses, "...I knew only some one's true father would love someone enough to do that. Most parents give their kids life from their flesh. You did the same thing, just in a different way."

"You've only lived for sixteen years." Lucien whispered. "When did you gain the wisdom of a man who has seen more seasons turn than his own grandfather?"

"Your life was too short. Mouldyshorts is going to pay for that! I'll make sure of it." Harry said, rage growing within him once more. "And we're going to make sure father's life doesn't end at the hands of Vol-Moldyshorts until he has lived long enough to see his great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great" Harry paused to draw a deep breath "great great GREAT Grandchildren."

Although Lucien would never disclose this to Harry, he knew that if he hadn't been there to intervene, Voldemort might have tortured Severus until he either went insane or died last night. Lucien knew Severus too well; Severus would never endanger Harry's life, and would allow the Dark Lord to tear his living flesh from his bones, cut out his still-beating heart or even burn him alive before he would even hint at his son's true identity. Even more chilling, Voldemort might have killed Severus anyway and sent his corpse back to Hogwarts in the hope that it would discourage Dumbledore or traumatise, as well as reveal the identity of Severus's son.

"Is father really going to be okay?"

"I believe so," Lucien once again did not sound sure of his answer.

"Then why is he like this?" Harry asked. "Why does he seem like he's awake, but knocked unconscious at the same time?"

"Are you familiar with the expression 'beaten senseless?'" asked Lucien. "The Dark Lord thrashed your father for a considerable length of time. What a human body can ultimately endure is finite, especially when the Cruciatus is also employed."

"You were there?!" Harry hissed.

"Yes. I followed him to the meeting."

"How?" Harry scooted over to where Lucien's ghost was kneeling.

"Because the mask your father wore to the meeting last night once belonged to me, it bore traces of my magical signatures. Before your father left, I cast a charm on the mask to enhance those signatures and used it to track him."

"But how did you get out of Snape Manor One? Aren't the wards around it supposed to keep you trapped there?" Harry asked, noticing that Severus had once again opened his eyes and appeared to be paying attention to their conversation. Lucien put a hand on Harry's shoulder, and recounted the previous night's events in a highly abbreviated fashion.

"Why didn't you let me come with you?" Harry exclaimed. "And you had no right to drug me like that!"

Lucien answered with comparable intensity. "Forgive me, but there was no alternative! I could not endanger you, Sevvie's only child, my only grandson, in that way! What would it have accomplished had The Dark Lord captured you as well? And how could you have defended yourself in your present state? Even if I had re-aged you, The Dark Lord is many years your senior!" He softened his tone upon seeing tears appearing in the boy's eyes, and was taken aback once again at how much Harry reminded him of Severus. "I've lost my wife and nearly my son to The Dark Lord. I will not lose my grandson as well!"

"That is why I asked you to brew a re-aging potion and make me even older than I really was before!"

"And what would you have done? Hundreds, perhaps thousands of people have perished at the Dark Lord's hands!"

"I've beat him before!" Harry retorted. "And I'll do it again

"And if you lost to him last night? In fair combat, perhaps you would win, but the Dark Lord's method is to triumph by any means at his disposal, fair or not. If you are going to chance his enmity, do so when you KNOW you can be victorious!" Lucien pressed. "As unfair as it may seem, only a fool enters a battle he has no chance of winning. You have to fight the Dark Lord using the very same tactic!!"

"You mean cheat back? Outclass him? Outnumber him? Out-strategise him?" Harry smiled deviously. " Or Use muggle weapons. Battle tactics used outside the British Isles. Fight him in a way that a true Slytherin would?"

"Exactly! " Lucien said, a Draco-like sneer firmly planted on his face. Lucien's expression turned sombre a few moments later. "Besides, if you had confronted The Dark Lord last night, and he had killed you, how do you think it would have affected your father? Especially knowing that you had given your life trying to save him?"

"I love him! And I would give my life for him! Gladly!" Harry said resolutely. "But I suppose he'd feel really sad about it though... and..." Harry's eyes grew wide with fear. "And because Voldemort would still be alive, he'd be really angry at father and hurt him even worse! Maybe Voldemort would kill him anyway, and in a really bad way!"

"Harry! You will stop saying 'Voldemort!'" Lucien clamped his hand over his own mouth when he realized that he had said the name of He-who-must-not-be-named.

"But you just said Volde-Moldyshorts's name!"

"I did not say it on purpose!" Lucien's ghostly cheeks turned reddish. "I've made a mistake!"

"I guess I would have made one too if I had followed you and father to the Death Eater meeting. I may not even be alive right now. And other families would still be hurt by Moldyshorts." Harry slipped into his six year-old story telling mode. "And if Mouldyshorts had killed me last night, I'll bet he would do something real mean like make father bury me after I'm dead or something! And to be even more mean, he'll make father dig my grave with something like a muggle plastic shovel. And because the shovel is plastic, father will only be able to dig a really small grave and will still get sore shoulders doing it. Because the grave is so small, my body probably won't fit, so Voldemort will tell Wormtail to cut me up in a paper shredder, but then the paper shredder will break because my bones are too hard, and to be even more mean to father, he'll make father fix the paper shredder. But father probably doesn't know how a paper shredder works, so he'll have to take it to a muggle repair shop. When the muggles there see fragments of my body in there, they'll accuse father of committing murder and throw him in a muggle jail. Because the people in jail are mean anyway, they'll probably beat up on father. Because father won't like being trounced, he'll probably transfigure the other prisoners into dung and then flush them down the toilet, which will cause the toilets in the jail to overflow."

Severus opened his eyes and made a face to indicate that he was repulsed, but little Harry continued.

"Because the paper shredder got broken, what is left of my corpse didn't get buried. Because it didn't get buried, it's going to start to stink, so Voldemort will probably say "Wormtail! Go bury Harry Potter!" And since Wormtail can't dig a bigger hole with the plastic shovel, and the paper shredder is gone, he'll be the lazy guy he usually is and just throw my corpse over the neighbour's fence or something. When the neighbour sees my corpse, they'll either have cardiac arrests and die, or else they'll scold their dog for dragging dead bodies into their yard. When yet another neighbour hears all the shouting, they'll call the bobbies for the disturbance but then the police will come over and see my dead body and start a murder investigation. Because the muggle investigator had never seen a person who died from the Avada kedavra curse before, they'll write that the cause of my death was 'old age' or something. The news media will somehow hear about it and report on the evening news about how incompetent the bobbies are because I was only kid who couldn't possibly die of old age. Meanwhile because father flushed the other prisoners down the toilet, they got out of the prison and turn back to their human forms in the sewer system. Because they won't want to stay in the sewers, they climb out and when they do, the paranormal investigators will report a new species of hominids that are born from the waste matter of other humans."

Lucien looked as though he couldn't decide whether to laugh or cry. Harry's story did sadden him, for he was talking about his own death. Yet, Harry's narrative was tempered with an innocence that made it both funny and endearing at the same time.

"And back in the muggle jail, because the toilets overflowed, the jail fills with water. If father can't get out of the jail cell, that would be bad because he would drown, but the guards won't want the prisoners to drown, so they'll let them swim out. When father swims out, the Aurors will be mad at him for transfiguring the other prisoners and flushing them down the toilets. So then father will have to run away from both the ministry and the bobbies."

Lucien turned to Harry, wanting to hear the rest of the macabre, though rather cute story, but Harry had apparently finished it. "I guess it wouldn't have been a wise thing to do, going after Vol- Moldyshorts without preparing first. Father would be sad if Voldemort killed me." Harry lowered his head thinking of that man with hollow eyes he had met in his first year at Hogwarts. "He'd...he'd be alone again..."

"A father cannot bear to bury his own son." whispered Lucien, silently praying that his own son would not soon join him in death.

"Do you think Mouldyshorts used the Cruciatus Curse on father enough times to cause him damage like you had when you were alive? Will he be brain damaged like you were?"

Lucien cringed. "I cannot be sure, although I pray that Sevvie NEVER behaves toward you as I did toward him..." A violent spasm shook Severus's body, and Lucien had to once again pull him from beneath the water's surface.

"What if he's damaged even worse, and is like grandmother now?" Harry lightly tapped Severus on the chest, and only received a blank stare in response. "At other times, father would be annoyed if I did that and might say 'Harry, stop it.' But he's just looking at me like he doesn't know what's going on. I think we have to get father back to Hogwarts right away."

"But a school nurse may neither have the equipment nor the training to treat your father adequately." Lucien stated, sounding as though sending Severus to Hogwarts was the same as sending a ferret into one of the abodes of Hagrid's dangerous creatures.

Harry sighed. "Hogwarts is quite far away, besides. We'll have no way of taking him there, and father is in no condition to try apparating." Harry did not realize that Lucien, freed from Snape Manor One's wards, was capable of travelling great distances. He could have easily taken Severus to Hogwarts. "Even though Madam Pomfrey is a great nurse, and can heal his wounds, she may not be able to do much about his nerve damage. I'll have to owl St. Mungos..."

"St. Mungos?" Lucien asked incredulously. "If he turns up at St. Mungos with Cruciatus injuries, they'll surely report him. Anyone with injuries due to unforgivable curses will be questioned and investigations will be conducted. His activities with the Death Eaters will be..."

"I know some one at St. Mungos." Harry interrupted. "And she won't tell on father. Dr. Chang. Dr. Chang and Madam Pomfrey both took care of father when he had the Interventio Interferous potion in his system."

"Why was a mediwitch from St. Mungos at Hogwarts?"

Harry recounted the time immediately following the raids over the summer. He covered everything from the arrival of Dr. Ayame Chang and the other St. Mungos staff at Hogwarts, to how he and his father had helped supply healing potions for the patients in the infirmary. He also elaborated more about the Chang family's perceived obligation to the Snapes and how YiChung Chang, in his draconian form, had transported them to Snape Manor.

"I wish we had a similar means to transport Sevvie to St. Mungos." Lucien sighed.

"Right now, Grandpa Chang wouldn't be able to transport us anywhere. Headmaster Dumbledore and he were playing pranks on each other, and ended up de-aging themselves. Kids don't have enough magic to transform into their animagus forms, I think."

"Dumbledore..." Lucien hissed.

"I could owl Dr. Chang that father needs to be sorted out, and we'll bring father to St. Mungos. We could take him there in my invisibility cloak so no one else sees him."

"Shouldn't we ASK Dr. Chang if she agrees to attend Severus first?" Lucien asked.

"She'll agree. And I'll make sure she doesn't say a word to anyone about it." Harry said, rubbing the excess salve off of a gash on Severus's shoulder and marvelling at the way the wound had sealed itself beneath.

"Maybe after father's been sorted out, we could go an visit grandmother too?"

"I would love that." Lucien nodded, smiling at Severus when he opened his black eyes.

It took a few minutes for Severus's eyes to focus properly. Although he knew he had been injured considerably, Severus found that he was not nearly in as much pain as he might have expected to be. Two blurred images materialized slowly before him. One was a tall ghostly being with gleaming white hair, and the other was little boy with eyes the colour of the first leaves of spring. Severus smiled as he recognized the entities; one was his imaginary, kind father; and the other was the mysterious green-eyed angel who had appeared at various times throughout his life when there seemed to be no reason to live.

They had returned to help him now. Severus could feel their gentle hands healing his broken body, and their soft voices soothing him; and their love surrounding him heavily, as though it were something almost tangible. What had he done to deserve such love? For years he had been forced to treat his own wounds. To bear them in silence. Not this day. His imaginary father and angel were helping him feel better.

Although Severus knew his imaginary father, and the green-eyed angel would disappear if he lost consciousness again, he could not help himself. He smiled wearily at each of them in turn, before closing his eyes once more.

Harry jumped back as violent spasms tore through Severus's body once again. This time, Severus was thrown over the side of the tub and thrashed about on the floor like a displaced aquatic creature. Lucien scrambled about, making sure there was nothing in the immediate area that Severus could potentially wound himself further on, even turning each individual floor tile into down filled cushions "Harry."

Harry met Lucien's gaze fully, even as the ghost struggled to keep Severus from breaking his own back. "Harry, when the time comes for you to go after The Dark Lord...I'll be with you...helping you along, no matter what."

"We'll make Voldemort pay!"

Lucien returned Severus to the tub and finished cleansing him. "Harry, you have an owl do you not?"

* * *

Lucien and Harry made their way to the roof of Snape Manor Two bearing two large lagomorphs captured in the yard and owl treats to barter for the brooding Hedwig's services. To their surprise, Hedwig's mate stepped forward and held his leg out to Harry, as though he were offering to deliver the post in his mate's place. 

"Can you deliver messages too?" Harry asked the male snowy white owl.

Hedwig gave Harry a look that said, "what a foolish thing to ask," while the male owl thrust his foot up once more.

Knowing the dangers sending an owl could entail, Harry had written the entire message to Dr. Chang in homemade tempera paints; so that it would look to be nothing more than an innocuous letter from a child to a healer should it fall into the wrong hands. Hopefully, Dr. Chang would understand its meaning though, as Harry was careful to hint at who they were, while not using either his or Severus's names.

The snowy white owl returned shortly thereafter with a reply from Dr. Ayame Chang. It was written in such a messy scrawl, that Harry pondered whether she had penned it with her non-dominant hand, or even with her feet. Harry wondered if her barely legible writing was a result of training with muggle physicians, for roughly all of the ones Harry had met had atrocious handwriting. It was only fair though, as Harry's coded writing with tempera paints must have been equally hard for her to decipher.

"Will she sort him out?" asked Lucien, trying to make sense of the scrawled letter.

"YES!" Harry said, relief gracing his features. "She said we can bring him to St. Mungos this afternoon at two thirty."

* * *

Hermione keyed herself back into the Ministry of Magic headquarters, bearing a videomachine and a miniature telly. The Bobbies programme, which featured that muggle baiting boy, who reminded Hermione of Draco Malfoy, had spawned so much interest that it had been re-telecast on several independent paranormal interest networks throughout the morning. Having endured so much prejudice from intolerant pure-bloods, she could not condone muggle baiters such as this Draco-like wizard, and recorded evidence to present to the ministry. 

"Hermione! Delighted to see you..." Arthur Weasley said, putting away a rather large stack of parchments. His gaze moved rapidly to the metallic devices in her arms. "OH! What's that?"

"This is called a VCR. And this is a telly." Hermione explained. She knew that Arthur enjoyed anything muggle, and revelled in tinkering with electronic devices. Most of all, he would be very interested in what she had to show him.

Arthur rose from his desk and gazed upon all surfaces of the curious devices. "How do they work? Don't they need eccltricity?"

"Yes they do." In her excitement, Hermione momentarily forgot that the ministry would have no source of electricity. She was about to invite Mr. Weasley to her house, when Mr. Weasley ducked into a nearby cupboard and emerged shortly thereafter with what appeared to be a portable generator.

"We've confiscated it from a group of wizards who were using it in Knockturn Alley to test eccelectric weapons." Arthur explained. "I haven't had the opportunity to investigate it further, but I've heard this jammerator is a machine that makes ecceltricity."

"It is called a ge-ne-ra-tor," Hermione corrected. She sighed with relief to find that the generator's fuel tank was nearly full. She plugged her mini television and the VCR into the device. "Mr. Weasley, you might want to cast a silencing charm over this machine, portable generators can be rather noisy."

Even with the charms in place, the generator still sounded like a clutch of cornish pixies batting their wings in a steel container when Hermione powered it on.

"Amma-a-azzzing!" Arthur exclaimed, putting his hands on the generator's vibrating chassis and enjoying the tremors.

Hermione rolled her eyes and switched on the VCR and the television. "Mr. Weasley, look here. I have something to show you."

Arthur was absolutely transfixed on the life-like images playing in the little box. When the theme song from Bobbies began, Arthur swayed to the music and commented how infectious the Muggle's songs were. When the police cars flashed their lights whilst in pursuit of a crook's car, Arthur asked why all cars like his old Ford Anglia didn't also come with flashing lights. He jumped back when the Bobbies kicked a criminal's door in and cheered when they took the troublemaker away. "Hermione! This is just amazing! Simply miraculous what the Muggles can do without magic. This is magic in its own right! I wonder if I might acquire a tellie as well?"

"You can have this one if you want it." Hermione said, rolling her eyes once more. She wondered if Mr. Weasley would get over his child-like fascination with the television before the segment with Draco would play. A commercial for a chewing gum that made one's teeth sparkle had Mr. Weasley inquiring where he might purchase some muggle gum. Another advertisement for a laundry detergent had him trembling in his chair, how much Molly would love a box of that! And when the commercial for a talking baby aired next, Arthur Weasley knew he would have to buy one for Samsonite, and another for Ginny. The girls would love those talking ecclectric babies.

Hermione rolled her eyes once more, even if a herd of hippogrifs were to stampede through his office right at this moment, she doubted Mr. Weasley would have noticed. He was too fascinated by the images on the telly to listen fully to her. "Mr. Weasley, I think you should really pay attention to this. There's a muggle baiter here."

"Hmm?" At least Hermione knew that Arthur Weasley was devoting his attention to fully to the programme as the police cars chased Draco out of London and down the long stretch of road.

"WHY!" Arthur gasped when Draco, wearing dyed hair and muggle clothing, 'surrendered' to the police, before quickly disappearing through the barrier. "That's the Malfoy's Estate! That must be Malfoy's son!" Hermione was astounded. So that boy really was Draco!

"But why would he be baiting muggles? That is so unkind of him!" Arthur wondered out loud. "Hermione, is there a way we could watch this scene again?"

Hermione rewound the tape and played for Mr. Weasley so many times, that Hermione was sure the tape was beginning to wear thin. "We should to show this to Madame Hopkirk," Hermione instructed. "He really shouldn't be baiting muggles in that way! And they'll be able to stop him."

"Oh...uh...you're absolutely right, Hermione." Arthur stated, his heart evidently more on watching the entire program than on reprimanding the son of Lucius Malfoy at the moment. "That was very wrong of him. Very wrong of him indeed. The poor muggle law enforcers, they must have been so frightened when saw Malfoy's son disappear like that and how must it have felt for them when they tried to traverse the wards as well, bless them!"

Before Mr. Weasley could ask to watch the scene for the thirty-seventh time, Hermione stopped the tape and turned off the television. "Let's take this to the others immediately. If Malfoy is committing crimes against muggles while his father is in Azkaban, who knows what he will do today?"

"I wonder how Malfoy's son learned how to drive?" Arthur Weasley thought out loud.

End Part Thirty Eight


End file.
